


This Too Shall Pass

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AA, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholics Anonymous, F/M, First Meetings, Gen, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Rehabilitation, Sponsor/sponsee, Twelve steps, gay relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:18:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 50,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2182842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because no one demanded it... the Teen Wolf Alcoholics Anonymous Fic! </p><p>Basically... what would happen if none of the characters (apart from family members) know each other and only meet at a new AA meeting in Beacon Hills.</p><p>Lots and lots of AA meetings and talk of alcoholism and recovery in this fic... including, because it's me, lots of relationships and angst.</p><p>Not everyone gets a happy ending.</p><p>Just saying...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Peter

**Author's Note:**

> The first meeting of the Beacon Hills Young and Sober AA meeting isn't quite as well attended as Derek hoped it would be.

“Well, honestly Derek, what did you expect?” Peter asked, feet up on the top table, smirking knowingly at his nephew who was sulking at his place by the door.  There was a semi circle of chairs set up between the door and the table, fifteen seats, all empty, which seemed to be mocking Derek as much as his uncle was.

“I expected at least _someone_ else to turn up.” Derek grumbled but refused to be riled. He’d done everything he could think of: spoken at Intergroup, sent out flyers, shared at the ‘Any other business’ at as many service meetings as he could and mentioned the new meeting whenever it was appropriate.

“Maybe they weren’t charmed by your welcoming and open personality?” Peter asked and Derek just glared. He knew he didn’t have the friendliest reputation, but he was always kind and courteous to newcomers and followed the program to the best of his ability.  One friend from the rooms had tried to tell him that a lot of people were intimidated by his good looks which Derek thought was absurd… the men and women he met all had much more important things to think about than what _he_ looked like.

“Let’s just get started, shall we?” Derek asked, moving from the door to the table as Peter rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Really…?” His tone was dry, disbelieving.  “With just the two of us?” Derek nodded and sat next to his uncle.

“A meeting is a meeting is a meeting.” Derek said definitively, sitting and picking up the card.  Peter sat back and waved his arm from the desk to the chairs indicating Derek was free to begin.  Derek cleared his throat and addressed the empty room.  “My name’s Derek and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi Derek.” Peter muttered from beside him, which the younger man ignored as, while it was possible that his uncle was just being facetious, Derek chose to believe he was just following convention.

“Welcome to the first meeting of the Beacon Hills Young and Sober group.  While we are aimed at people under twenty-five, anyone with a desire to stop drinking is welcome to attend.  I’ll begin by reading the preamble.  Alcoholics Anonymous is fellowship of men and women who share their experience, strength and hope with each other that they may solve their common problem and help others to recover from alcoholism. The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking. There are no dues or fees for A.A. membership; we are self supporting through our own contributions. A.A. is not allied with any sect, denomination, politics, organization or institution; does not wish to engage in any controversy, neither endorses nor opposes any causes. Our primary purpose is to stay sober and help other alcoholics to achieve sobriety.

“As chair I’m not going to talk too much, just going to introduce our speaker and ask him to share his experience, strength and hope with us, Peter?” He turned to his uncle who was watching him with one eyebrow cocked.  He looked out of the empty room.

“Who are you talking to, we’re the only ones here?”

“Peter!” Derek snapped and the older man raised his hands, giving in.  While Derek did have a sense of humour, it was rarely in evidence within an AA meeting; somewhere he considered almost sacrosanct.

“Fine, fine. My name’s Peter and I’m an alcoholic, I-“

“Hi Peter.” Derek said and looked surprised when his uncle glared at him, “What?!” He asked incredulously.

Peter just shook his head.  “I...” He stopped and looked at his nephew and then down at the table. “I was just about to make a joke, try and get a rise out of Derek here, but... I don’t know, when I heard the preamble... how many times have I sat in rooms like this? How many times have I heard those words.  I honestly don’t know, but eventually they become a part of you.  I hear a chairperson read the preamble and the blue card – which you forgot by the way –“ He added to Derek before returning his gaze to the empty room. “And something in my brain just switches.

“People talk about this illness in all different ways, but for me it’s like a constant buzz, a white noise in the back of my head and sitting in the rooms, surrounded by the traditions and steps, “ he nodded at the two posters at the corners of the room, “by other alcoholics, and by the program, well... it makes the buzz quieter.

“So thank you Derek, you were right, a meeting is a meeting is a meeting. So, I’m going do the share.” Peter coughed and sat up, leaning his hands on the desk.  “I’m now looking at my... eighth year sober,” Derek mumbled a quick ‘well done’ which Peter ignored but took in, “which, if you’d told me I’d make that eight years ago I’d probably have punched you for being an out and out liar.  Then I got eight days, then eight weeks, then eight months and now I’m looking at eight years, one day at a time.” He added quickly, tapping his knuckles on the wood.

“I’m not going to focus on my drinking, it was drinking and bad and I’m not a fan of drunkaolgues so I’m going to talk about my recovery.  First of all, I was an angry, angry guy when I got first got sober.  I don’t even know what I was angry about, I was just angry. I was the kind of person who, if something, anything, happened to, would just lash out and hit back at whatever had disturbed me. 

“I think really I just wanted to be left alone. No, that’s not right, I wanted everything to be done exactly as I wanted it to, which meant I wanted to be left alone for most of it but for other people to do things for me if and when I wanted them... I just didn’t want to ask.  So... I remember sitting in my first meetings and reading the steps and just thinking, ‘no way.’  It took a really strong sponsor to break me down and get me to work through the first three steps. 

“Steps one to three took me over a year. Man did I fight against that old bastard.”  Derek chuckled a little, having met Peter’s first sponsor and knowing it was meant fondly.  “But he was immovable, just kept on at me, walking me through step one over and over again.  Eventually I accepted it, I was powerless over alcohol and my life was unmanageable.  He kept showing me all the ways I couldn’t exist the way I had been. I argued though... that things weren’t that bad, that it would be different, but really... to anyone, it was easy to see my life was a mess. Steps two and three took the bulk of the year though.  I’ve never believed in God, so the concept of a higher power really made me balk.

“But we worked at it.  My sponsor wouldn’t let me quit, or skip, and man did I want to skip step three.  But we tried...” he blew out a breath, “Christianity, Buddism, Janeism, Taoism... none of which worked for me, then we tried _time_ as a concept which almost worked but it’d didn’t really fit with the one day at a time concept and the living in the now thing that AA proscribes. 

“So in the end we used AA. As a higher power.  It is something that existed before me, exists without me all over the world and meetings I don’t go to carry on, even if I don’t go. It is more powerful than I am and it, and the members in AA, want me to be sober and all the times I tried on my own to stop drinking I failed.  With AA, it’s been successful, well, it’s been successful so far today, was successful yesterday and I have the chance to work the program tomorrow.  Which is more than enough for me.

“From there, we went through the next steps quite quickly. It... it meant a lot, finishing the steps, completing something positive for myself.  I hadn’t expected it, but it actually made a difference.  Since then, I’ve given service, attended meetings as much as I can even taken sponsees of my own, heaven help them.” He ended with a smile and Derek huffed, imagining what his uncle was like as a sponsor.  “It’s the most important thing in my life.

“If I didn’t have my sobriety, I have no idea where I’d be, but it wouldn’t be where I am now – healthy, relatively happy and successful, well, successful enough.  It’s the thing I’m grateful for everyday and something I don’t take for granted.  Ok, wait... scratch that... it’s something I _try_ not to take for granted.  Which, actually, is maybe something that I need to work on.  I maybe do, at this stage in my recovery, take it for granted.”

Peter stopped and looked thoughtful.  Derek waited patiently, it wasn’t uncommon for whoever was doing the share to stop and reflect on something that came up – shares were great for uncovering hidden elements within someone’s recovery.   “When I think about how I used to interact with AA... and where I am now... maybe I am taking it too lightly. 

“This needs to be my focus and, maybe, maybe... with all the time that’s past, I’ve lost that.  I’ve always known and said how important my recovery was, but have I been living it? No... I don’t think I have.  I’ve not done step work in... God, I don’t know.  I’ve not read the big book in years, or Living Sober and that used to be my, like, thing. 

“So, yeah.  I know that was short, but I think I might stop there.”  Peter said, sitting back, thoughtful and pensive. 

Derek nodded and spoke into the empty room. “Thank you, Peter.  Normally we’d take a ten minute break for tea and coffee before returning to respond to your share, but as there’s just two of us... shall we just...” He rolled his wrist and his uncle nodded.  “OK.  Well, I’m Derek and I’m an alcoholic.”  

“Hi Derek.” Peter said without an ounce of snark.

“Thank you for your share.  I identified with some of it. I remember that early day feeling of being in the rooms and looking at the steps and traditions and thinking that I’d never do them and they weren’t for me.  I suppose being in AA really identifies your ego... and I remember being proved wrong, that the program works if you work it.

“I was angry too, like you, but I thought I had reason for my anger.  Obviously I was both right and wrong – yes I had reason for how I felt, but I wasn’t really feeling it, I was just using it as an excuse to drink.  Back then I always thought I was angry, most of the time though I was just scared... Anger is just fear with a hammer in its hand.” Derek smiled, remembering the first time he heard that and how he’d thought it was absolute rubbish.  Then, as he and his sponsor had worked though it, he recognised it’s truth. 

“So thank you Peter for reminding me of those things.  I’m doing OK. I think I’ve been putting my ego ahead of me a little with this meeting.  I think I thought that it would be a massive success and I’d be doing something good for the program, but maybe I was just trying to be controlling...? I don’t know... We’ll see.

“I can’t judge everything on one meeting can I?  So, yeah.  I guess that’s me.” He said with a sigh.

“Thank you Derek.”  Peter said with a small, tight smile.  The pair of them stood and linked hands.

“We’ll now end how we end every meeting, with the serenity prayer, please join in using the word God as you do or do not understand it.  God-“ Derek started and Peter joined in; “grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.” They shook hands and grinned at each other before sharing a hug.

“Not the longest or most conventional meeting nephew-mine.” Peter said, “But I enjoyed it.”

“Me too, thanks for sharing. Oh, tenth tradition.” He said and reached for the thick black cloth bag he’d bought for that purpose. They both reached into their pockets and pulled out a ten dollar bill and dropped them in.  Derek laughed.  “Well, that’s this week and next taken care of...” Peter grinned back at him.

“I’ll give less when you have more members...”  Derek nodded and silently prayed that more _did_ turn up.  While the hospital was supplying the room for only ten dollars a week (a ridiculously low figure which he suspected was being done unofficially by the surprisingly helpful nurse who organised the hiring of the room), which Derek could easily cover himself, thought he hoped he wouldn’t have to.

Quickly and efficiently, both having done service in other meetings, Derek and Peter took down the room, locking everything away in the small cupboard just outside the doors.  Once again, Derek marvelled at what a great space they’d found.  Not only was it cheap, but it was next to a side exit so members wouldn’t have to come through the hospital. 

As they left the building, Derek noticed a young man hanging around on the opposite side of the road from the door they’d just exited.  Frowning to himself he asked his uncle if he’d noticed the guy when he’d come out to get the AA sign. When Peter just shrugged Derek asked him to wait for him and jogged out across the road.  “Hey.”  He said, still not sure if the guy had been watching the door, or even if he had, didn’t know if he knew what the sign – a blue circle with a triangle in it -  meant.

“Hey.” The guy said, thrusting his hands deeper into his pockets and hunching his shoulders away from Derek. “You just come from in there?” He asked, nodding to the door he’d just seen the older man come out of.

Derek resisted the urge to snark and nodded, “Yeah. Were you thinking about going in?”  He asked and the younger man just shrugged.

“I’m Derek.” He said extending his hand.  The younger man shook it while still not making eye contact

“Scott.” The guy said.

“OK.” They stood in awkward silence for a few seconds.

“There are other meetings tomorrow if you want to go to one?”  Scott didn’t say anything but didn’t run off so Derek continued.  “It won’t be a young person’s meeting, but all meetings are pretty much the same – open to all ages.  If you want, I could meet you before hand for a coffee? We could chat some?”

Scott looked up and Derek recognised the look in the younger man’s eyes – part hope, part fear and one hundred percent desperate. His heart went out to the younger man and made a decision.  “Give me your phone.” He demanded.  Scott blinked a couple of times before handing his phone to Derek.

“Right.” He tapped his number out and called himself.  “There you go.  My number’s in there, you can phone me anytime you want, for any reason, even if it’s late, just... try and get to a meeting, yeah?” When Scott shrugged, Derek ground his teeth and resisted the urge to snap at the other man, “Look.  What are you up to now... maybe we could grab a coffee?”

Scott immediately took a step back and shrugged towards the hospital.  “I’m meeting my Mom.” He said and started to walk away.

“Call me anytime.” Derek called after him as Scott walked away, not caring that he sounded like a desperate teenager calling after a crush.  Throwing up a prayer for the clearly troubled young man, Derek let him go, recognising he couldn’t force the boy into the rooms; he needed to make that step himself. 

Sighing with regret, Derek jogged back to his uncle who had his trade-mark snarky look.  “Making friends?” He drawled.

Derek just glared.  “Come on,” Derek said and headed to the car, trying not to think about the boy who’d walked in the other direction.

 


	2. Missed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott returns to the AA meeting and is given Alcoholics Anonymous 101 by Derek.

Derek would have been lying if he’d said he’d not thought about Scott, the desperate boy he had met outside the AA meeting the week before.  Every night when he went to bed he ensured that his volume was set on high in case he was called, he checked his messages compulsively and even occasionally wrote texts, but always deleted them before sending; it was Scott’s place to reach out to him.  Still, he couldn’t help but wish the other boy would call him.

By the time it came around to the Thursday Young and Sober meeting, Derek had strayed from concerned into annoyed with the boy he’d met.  Sighing to himself, he took a moment to check his anger and locate it’s source; the fear that Scott wouldn’t turn up.  Derek didn’t envy himself another week glued to his phone, jumping at every innocuous call and message; he knew that if Scott didn’t turn up at the Young and Sober meeting, Derek would end up calling him, against his better judgment.

“Oh would you stop sighing!” Peter admonished him after a particularly deep breath from his nephew.  “You can not control anyone else and you certainly can’t control their recovery.  If he’s going to come, he’ll come, if not… well…” He shrugged and Derek glared at him. He knew his uncle meant well but the fact was, while he knew he couldn’t _control_ someone else recovery, he could certainly influence it.  Just as he could influence Scott, should he show up; show him what living sober could do for you.

They finished putting up the last of the signage and set up the chairs before Peter went to sort teas and coffees and Derek lingered at the door for any early members.  Determined not to repeat the minimalist meeting of the week before, both Hales had asked friends to attend, even some who weren’t under 25. A friend of Derek’s, Allison, turned up first, which wasn’t surprising as she was doing the share; her qualification being, at 23, the youngest AA member Derek knew.   As he opened the door to her however, his friendly smile became fixed as he realised she’d brought another younger member, Garrett, who Derek couldn’t stand.

He gave Allison a quick peck on the cheek and then extended his hand to Garrett who shook it distractedly while looking around the room. “Welcome, both of you, Allison…? You’re still good to share yeah?” He waited for her to nod before continuing.  “Peter’s going to chair for you.” He added extending an arm to the top table for her to take her place then turned to Garrett.  “How are you, Garrett?”

“Fine, good.  Nice room, didn’t think you’d have it all ready.” He replied, walking past Derek towards where Peter was reorganising the refreshments.  Derek bit his lip.  He’d been on the receiving end of Garrett’s unthinking backhanded insults before and knew, from painful experience, that if you tried to explain why what he’d said was offensive he’d just look at you blankly until you gave up.  Derek knew he didn’t like Garrett, but wasn’t about to let that supersede the fact that he was in a meeting, and even if he didn’t like the other man, he could still get identification with his recovery.

The knocker went on the door again and Derek jumped up to answer it – that being his duty for the evening.  He opened it to two people he recognised from other meetings, but didn’t know personally.  He felt a brief flash of pride that other members, members who neither he nor Peter had invited, were attending his meeting.  He welcomed them warmly and pointed them in the right direction.

Before he’d got back to his seat by the door of the meeting proper, the entrance door knocker went again and Derek jumped back up, a spring in his step.  He was up and down five more times before the meeting reached it’s start time. _A decent sized crowd._ He thought to himself, but still deflated when he realised that Scott wasn’t among them.  Despite how much he might wish it otherwise, an AA meeting always started at the stated time no matter what and Peter and Allison were sitting at the top table, the former watching the clock for the exact second the clock struck eight. 

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” He repeated until he had complete silence and attention.  My names Peter and I’m and alcoholic.” 

“Hi Peter.” The room intoned and Peter nodded solemnly.

“Welcome to the Thursday night closed meeting of Young and Sober.  I’ll start by reading the preamble and blue card to remind us of our purpose here tonight. Alcoholics Anonymous is fellowship of men and women who share their experience, strength and hope with each other that they may solve their common problem and help others to recover from alcoholism...” Derek felt himself relax under the familiar words and settled back into his seat.

When Peter was nearing the end of the preamble Derek caught a slight knock on the door and he stood to go answer it.  While every AA member knew meetings started exactly on time, it didn’t make all of them punctual.  Derek had turned up late to a fair few meetings of his own, and whoever this was, was only a couple of minutes out.

As Derek’s hand went to the door he threw up a quick prayer, hoping against hope that it was Scott, not that he expected it would be.  Which was maybe why, when the door opened to the same nervous looking young man who Derek had met the week before he was momentarily stunned into silence.

Remembering himself, he stepped back and beckoned Scott in. “Come in, come in.” Scott shuffled past him, hands resolutely thrust into the pockets of his hoodie, eyes downcast.  “Is this your first meeting?” Derek asked, as tradition demanded.  Every greeter was supposed to ask that of any person they didn’t recognise; ordinarily it was met with a simple no, or an explanation of which the member’s home group was, but it was also a good way to identify visitors from out of town.

“Yeah.” Scott said, nervously looking up and down the corridor. 

“OK. Well, why don’t you follow me.” Before moving away, Derek caught the flash of panic on the younger man’s face so he clarified.  “We’ll go to the kitchen, you don’t have to go into the meeting at all today, but maybe I can answer some of your questions and explain a bit about the program.”  Scott visibly sagged in what Derek imagined was relief and he led the boy to the tiny kitchen opposite the meeting room.

In reality, the kitchen was nothing more than a cupboard which had a sink, a microwave and a couple of kettles, though, importantly, it had a door and enough space for two small chairs.  Derek went in first, allowing Scott to take the seat nearer the door giving him the option of closing it, which he did, and leaving if he needed to, which he didn’t.

“So, first of all, well done for making it to the rooms.” Derek began, putting as much sincerity as he could into his words as possible, knowing how easy it was to sound insincere.  “It _is_ an achievement.  So many people who struggle in their relationship with alcohol never find the courage to seek out a program of recovery, that you have speaks volumes to your character.” Scott huffed a little and shook his head, but Derek continued remembering all too well the crippling self doubt he’d existed in during his drinking and his early recovery.  “I’m Derek, I’m one of the opener’s of this meetings.  It doesn’t mean I’m in charge, it’s just the service I do at the moment.  In six months or a year, I’ll take a different service and someone else will take over being an opener.”

Scott looked up, clearly slightly interested despite himself.  Derek continued explaining: “In the meeting proper is a top table, though in different meetings that means different things – for us, there actually _is_ a table, which is useful, but in some meetings it’s just a circle of chairs.  The first piece of advice I’m going to give you, and, brace yourself, you’re gonna get a _lot_ of advice is to _keep coming back._ For now, that means don’t judge AA on this one meeting.  We’re quite small, and maybe you’ll prefer bigger ones, but eventually you’ll find a group you really like and that will be your main meeting, but for now, _keep coming back_. 

“If you’re not sure what to do, or don’t want to phone someone, or just feel restless, head to a meeting. If you are in a meeting you can’t drink and it’s a safe space to get out some of the thoughts in your head.”  He paused and Scott nodded, though Derek got the feeling that he was doing it for forms sake more than anything else.  “OK, well, the only requirement to join AA is a desire to stop drinking.  You don’t have to call yourself an alcoholic if you don’t feel comfortable, OK?” Another nod, with an added fidget. Derek paused seeing if the squirm would lead somewhere but Scott was still silent. “Right, these are for you.” Derek stood and scooted around the other boy to reach the leaflets for newcomers. He also grabbed the list of local meetings, pointing out a couple of the meetings in the local area and suggesting a couple he knew were good for newcomers.

 “Can I ask… have you had a drink today?”  People, even newcomers, weren’t supposed to attend a meeting if they’d drunk in the day, they were encouraged to take the meeting list and attend the following day.

“No.” Scott said and sighed, leaning back in the chair, looking up at the ceiling. 

“OK, good, that’s really good. Is there anything you want to ask? Or do you want to just go into the meeting?”

Scott looked out of the kitchen towards the meeting and huddled in on himself a little. “We can do.” He said but Derek got the distinct impression that the other boy still really didn’t want to.

“You don’t have to straight away.  There’s some other things I can tell you about… the Twelve Steps?” Derek asked and Scott looked up and at him for the first time, it was for less than a second, but the older man took it as a good sign.

“I know about them.” Scott said and Derek resisted the urge to tell Scott that reading about the twelve steps on Wikipedia and living them were very different things.  “I did some reading when I was… I did some reading.” He hedged and Derek nodded, encouraging him on. “So I know about meetings and things.  Plus…”  He visibly steeled himself and Derek expected him to say he was an alcoholic – newcomers normally took a bit of a run up to the admission.

Instead, Scott made a different disclosure.  “My father… he’s an alcoholic.  So when I found out about that I read up on it.  I was just a teenager then but I read up on alcoholism and I vowed I’d never be like him…” Derek frowned a little, hearing the bitterness in the young man’s voice.  “Now… here I am. I’m not like him though.” He quickly clarified and Derek heard the desperation there; no matter whether he and his Dad were similar, it would take a lot of hard work before Scott admitted their similarities and Derek knew there would be.  “He was married and was violent to my Mom, and, well, to me… that’s when he left, left us when I was twelve.  He turned up again when I was in my junior year of high school, trying to make amends.

“I didn’t want see him, but Mom said it was important we did, he’d joined ‘ _the program’_ ” Scott’s bitterness shone brightly and Derek sighed internally… taking on Scott was going to be a lot of hard work. “Claimed to be all better, hadn’t had a drink for however long… it was weird.  He was like a whole different person.  I don’t want that…?” He looked beseechingly at Derek who shifted a little.

“Well… it can happen, sure.  Working with AA tends to let you live your life the way you should live it.  Often times, people in their drinking days aren’t living very healthily and recovery can change that.” Derek winced at how vague that sounded, but didn’t really want to get into the intricacies of step six and seven in which you recognise all your character defects and work on changing them.

Scott nodded though and carried on, “Anyway… I read it could be passed down, like, hereditary or whatever, so I kinda stayed away from drink.  Everyone else was drinking keggers and shots and I would be the designated driver.  Then… I went to college.  I was on my own for the first time. There was a bar on our campus.  I could walk there.  So I did.

“I drank a lot, and quickly. I drank and it started being a problem so I tried to stop. But… I… but I couldn’t.  I tried, I really did, but…”  Scott stopped and Derek reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, squeezing it in support, just briefly.  “Thanks.  But… I’m not… I mean… I can’t be…”

“I’m an alcoholic.” Derek said to cover Scott’s grasping.  The young man looked up at him and stared him straight in the eye.  “I’ve meet hundreds of alcoholics.  We all drank in different ways to different extents.  I’ve met alcoholics who drank twice, three times as much as me and I’ve met alcoholics who drank only a fraction of what I drank.  The thing we have in common is that, at the end, we had no control of alcohol and our lives had become unmanageable.  The woman sharing in the meeting tonight, Allison, is a friend of mine and she only ever drank at weekends. She won’t mind telling you this, she’s no doubt saying the same thing in the room.  She worked Monday to Friday, completely sober, then drank Friday evening to Sunday evening.  She’s an alcoholic.  No one is going to tell you you’re an alcoholic and no one is going to judge you on how much you drank; there’s no minimum drink limit.” He said with a smile, relieved that Scott smiled back.

“OK.  So… I tried, on my own I tried.  But I think I need help…?”  Scott asked and Derek nodded.

“You’ll get it here, if you ask for it.  Do you still have my number?” The other boy nodded and Derek smiled to him.  “OK, well use it.  I’m going to be your sponsor.  We’ll speak every day until you can find your feet and you feel happier in where you are in your recovery, OK?”

Scott blinked. “Just like that? You’re my sponsor?”

“Yes.” Derek said emphatically.  Different meetings, different towns and different intergroups had different rules, but he’d always appreciated the rigidity of how they worked the program in Beacon Hills.  “You’re new to AA and will have a lot of questions and hang-ups and recovery is a difficult process.  There are structures for newcomers for a reason.  People tend to relapse in early recovery when they don’t have support so we, here, give you a sponsor who’ll see you through the early stages of recovery.  They’ll be your first call if things go wrong, but you should take phone numbers from anyone who offers, and be willing to offer yours when you are settled.

“I’ll meet with you as often as we can.  I work shifts, so can be available at odd times… are you working? Or studying?” He asked and Scott answered around a growing frown.

“I’m working as an orderly here at the hospital.  I had to drop out of college… I … “

“That’s OK. That’s good – you’ve got something to keep you busy.  Now, we suggest, strongly suggest that newcomers aim to go to ninety meetings in ninety days.  It gives you something to focus on and means that you’ll see a lot of different meetings and meet a lot of different people.  As your sponsor, I’ll be working the twelve steps with you, when you are ready to do so… OK?”

Scott nodded, but still had a question to ask: “What if we don’t get on? Me and you?”

“We won’t always get on Scott.  I’m your sponsor, I’m going to ask you tough questions, call you on your bullshit and push you to be a better person.  There are days you’re going to think I’m a dick.  That’s what meetings are for – go.  Go to a meeting and bitch about your sponsor, everyone in the rooms who has worked the program will know where you are coming from and they’ll know that your anger may not be aimed in the right place.” Derek left it there, seeing Scott’s frown deepen.    “Now, after the meeting, I’d like you to try and stay til the end, talk to as many people as you can, then once everyone’s left, I’ll buy you the Big Book of AA, which you’ll need to read, and I imagine my Uncle Peter will buy you Living Sober.

“Aw man! There’s homework?” Scott asked, rolling his head and grumbling a little. 

“Yes Scott. There’s homework.” Derek tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. “This is a program of recovery, but it only works if you work it – I’ll be here to help and guide you, make suggestions, but whether or not you are successful in AA is up to you…” He ended as gently as he could.  Sensing Scott had taken as much as he could of AA101, Derek nodded and stood, “are you ready to go into the meeting?”

“OK. Yeah.  Do I have to say anything?”  He asked, looking nervous again.

“No.  When it comes to you, you can say pass.  Or you can say your name and that you’d like to listen, or you can say your name and say that you are having a difficult time with alcohol.  If you want to say you’re an alcoholic you can, and if you want to share anything else you can, but try not to cross-share.”  Derek finished, then shook his head, mentally cursing himself.  “Cross sharing is where you talk about what someone else has said, or talk directly to them.  Keep your comments to whatever you hear Allison say, or keep it vague and about yourself, OK?”

“Chirst, you guys have so many rules.” Scott said, running fingers through his hair.

“There aren’t that many when you get used to them.” Derek said with what he hoped was a fond smile then opened the door into the meeting room.  Most of the people in the room flicked a look at Derek but seeing a newcomer instantly looked away.  Everyone remembered their first meeting - the fear, the worry, the certainty that you were being judged.

Scott turned on his heel and looked at Derek, raising his eyebrows in question.  Derek pointed to an empty chair in the semi-circle, near his own chair by the door and Scott shuffled to it, clutching the newcomers pack to his chest. Lowering himself carefully into his own creaky, folding chair Derek turned his attention to the top table where Peter was talking.

“So that’s my identification. Thank you again Allison for that share, it was great.  OK.  So…  We’ll go round the room, please share your experience as it is relevant to you and if you all keep in mind the time and we should all get a chance to talk.”  Derek inwardly cursed.  He and Scott must have been talking longer than he had thought.

Derek watched on in pride as the members shared their reflections on the main share but almost each and every one of them mentioned something about their first meetings, their feelings and the thing they found most useful in early recovery. The exception being Garrett, of course, who went on a bizarre tirade on how AA was overly focused on early recovery.  Derek felt the overly focused on the need to smash the oblivious little shit’s head into the wall.

Then it came to Scott and Peter very carefully addressed him. “Welcome. You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to, we’re all just really glad you’re here.” Derek could have kissed his uncle for that but he kept his focus on Scott. 

“Errrrr, right, thanks.  I’m Scott.”

“Hi Scott.” The room said, the collection of quiet greetings mingling into more than the sum of it’s parts.

“Whoa. You actually do that… I’ve seen it on TV, but…” There were a few chuckles around the room and Derek caught Allison smiling encouragingly at the newcomer who seemed to appreciate it, focusing the rest of his words on her.  “I’m an alcoholic.” There was a lengthy pause that no one seemed to want to talk over so they left Scott to his frown and gave him time to find the words.  “My Dad is, so I knew the signs to look for and when I saw them… I tried to stop.  But couldn’t.  I fucked up…” He looked up, startled and then turned to Derek a bit. “I can swear right…?” Derek just help up his hands and shook them in front of him, trying to remind Scott not to talk to others during his sharing.  “Shit!” He exclaimed, clearly remembering. “Errrrr… sorry if I offended anyone.  I’m new to all this, but it seems like maybe it’ll help, so I’ll be around, so if I see you…say hi?”  He shrugged, “I guess that’s me.”  He said and slumped in his chair like his strings had been cut.

The rest of the meeting went by quickly and with little fanfare.  After the serenity prayer Scott stood awkwardly at his chair as members went to him to share greetings.  Peter collared Garrett and engaged him in some esoteric point, steering him out of the door before he could freak out the newcomer.  Derek made his own rounds but kept his eye on his new sponsee.  Scott seemed to be doing everything he was supposed to and even accepted Allison’s number when she offered.  Derek smiled at his friend and mouthed a ‘thank you’ to her, but frowned a little at the blush climbing Scott’s cheeks.  In AA, getting and giving phone numbers was a natural and easy thing, but, he had to remember that Scott just got a phone number from an attractive young woman. He mentally reminded himself to talk to Scott about relationships in AA and what a bad idea they were.  Eventually though, everyone else left and Derek introduced Scott to Peter, who, unsurprisingly, bought Scott the book Living Sober.  Derek added his own money to the coffers and handed his new sponsee the Big Book.

“So… I’m supposed to read both these.”  Scott asked, incredulous.

“Eventually, yes. But not in one go.” Derek smiled, hoping to be reassuring.  “Are you OK, getting home?” He asked, ready to off a ride but Scott nodded.

“My Mom works here, she’s a nurse.” Scott said with a shrug. “Well, thanks… I guess I’ll call you tomorrow?” Scott asked and Derek nodded.

“You did good in there.” Derek said, reaching out a hand to Scott who stood a little straighter before shaking it. 

“Thanks.”

“I’ll speak to you later.” Derek said and watched Scott walk up into the hospital proper before turning back into the room to put it away.

“New sponsee?” Peter asked and Derek nodded.  “Good luck.” Peter responded in a sing-song voice and Derek glared ineffectually at his uncle.

Worryingly he thought he was going to need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> More to come soon.


	3. Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek is finding Scott a handful and a half which isn't helped when a couple more of Beacon Hills finest appear.

“But why?”

Derek was prepared for the question.  “Because that is the way it is done.” He said as evenly as he could.

“Yeah, but why?” Scott persisted.

Derek reached for his cup and took a slow pull of coffee.  In the weeks since he’d taken the younger man on as a sponsee the phrase, ‘yeah, but why?’ had been uttered more times than he could count.  Scott was almost never satisfied with the answers Derek gave about the program, about AA and about the traditions.  Chiding himself for being frustrated he acknowledged that that wasn’t always true – some things Scott accepted with a nod, but some things clearly grated on him. “Because, Scott,” Derek said, biting of his words without meaning to, “AA has been around for around seventy years and members have tried every which way to make this a program that anyone can pick up and apply to their life, and that means completing a full and frank moral inventory.”

“Yeah, but, every time I sit down to do it, I end up wanting to drink and have to go to a meeting – that’s counter-productive surely?” Scott said decisively and sat back with his arms folded.  The argument they were having over Step 4 - _Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves._ Derek was aware of the difficult nature of this step but, after all the arguments they had over Step 2 and 3 - _Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity_ and _Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him_ \- he wasn’t looking forward to yet more fights over another step.

The trouble with steps two and three was that, in Derek’s mind, Scott refused to put any effort into working out a personal relationship with a God of his understanding. Derek had suggested Scott come to his church, which was met with a stony silence, so he’d moved on to other religions or religious texts.  The closest they’d come was when Scott read the Book of Tao, which he seemed to really enjoy so Derek spent two days reading it from cover to cover and talking to members who knew about it.  He actually liked the philosophy of it, it’s karmic nature, and he’d genuinely looked forward to coffee with his sponsee; he was certain that it would be the breakthrough they needed.

Sadly, for him, Scott’s interest in the book seemed to be superficially philosophical and he couldn’t see how he could turn his life over to the thoughts and ideas in the book.  They’d spent a frustrating week trying to work out some method they could use ending with their biggest fight in after Derek suggested Scott: “Fake it ‘til he makes it.”  That he should fake a belief in a higher power until that belief and faith appeared itself. 

Scott had been livid. 

He threw back every time Derek had talked about the rigorous honesty he, and AA, demanded of it’s members. He crowed in disbelief that his sponsor would even suggest it.  Derek had tried to point out it was a standard technique to get over step three and he could introduce Scott to people it had worked for, but the younger man had just scoffed.

For a fortnight after that, their meetings and phone calls had been tense and cursory.  Derek had had to backtrack a little and they started working through steps one to three under the simplified umbrella of: ‘I can’t, you can, please do.”  It was Peter though who finally made the breakthrough. 

Derek had been researching non-religious Higher Powers when his uncle had asked him what he was doing.  When he explained, trying his best to keep it vague and not let on how Scott was struggling with the steps his uncle had blinked for a few moments then walked over and clipped Derek around the back of the head; a blow that was more surprising than painful.  “What was that for?!” He’d decried and Peter had had to walk his nephew through how he’d worked through the Higher Power aspect of AA – how he used the Group Of Drunks, G O D, to stand as a higher power.

Derek had groaned and collapsed on the desk, forehead smacking it with a resounding ‘thud’. He’d texted Scott straight after their conversation and asked if he’d mind meeting with Peter to talk through non-religious Higher Powers.  Scott had immediately agreed and the three of them had had an enjoyable afternoon sorting through Peter’s personal philosophy and working out how Scott could use it himself.  Derek had enjoyed about two weeks of his sponsee applying the G.O.D. principals to his meetings and recovery.  Two blissful weeks until he’d raised the prospect of completing his Step 4, leading them to the argument they were having in the coffee shop of the hospital before the meeting.

“That’s why you need to complete it – the sooner you can get this all down and talked through, the sooner you won’t want to drink on it. Maybe we should do it together...?” Derek mused, thinking about something he’d read online. “You could come round on Saturday and stay over, completing the Step 5 on Sunday...”

“A whole weekend?! With _you_?!” Scott sounded beyond horrified and did his best not to be overly offended. 

“Yes.  A weekend of _work_ with your _sponsor_ so you can remember your life and the things you’ve done without the desperate urge to drink.” He said slowly so as not to raise his voice. “Remember this program only works-“

“If you work it. Yes, I know.” Scott sounded petulant and Derek knew that the younger man was done; trying to talk to him when he got into that mood was impossible.

Sighing, he offered an olive branch. “Why don’t you come help up set up...?” He asked and Scott nodded.  They quickly finished their drinks and cleared their tables, the younger man nodding to the lady behind the counter.  Apparently, his meeting Derek so often had caused quite a lot of gossip. “Do they still think we’re dating then?”

“Yep.” Scott said, popping the ‘p’ and shaking his head.  “Though they all think I could do better.”

Derek gave him a sidelong glance and raised an eyebrow.  He wasn’t vain, but knew what he looked like; physically he was attractive, thought he couldn’t think why people thought Scott could do better.  Rolling his eyes, Scott clarified: “They think we argue too much? That you’re just a big grump. One of Mom’s friends even told me that looks weren’t everything and that even a prize stud goes to graze one day.”

“A prize stud?!” Derek asked, incredulous.

“Yeah, someone even told Mom that I was dating someone and he was maybe treating me wrong... led to a very awkward conversation until I figured out what was going on.”

“Oh.” Derek said, unsure exactly whether he had anything to apologise for.

“It’s OK.  I told her your my sponsor and she’s happy enough.”

“Oh.” Derek said, slightly more unhappy.  He wasn’t exactly the most anonymous member of AA but it was pretty bad form for Scott to have told someone about how they knew each other, but then... did he really want people in the hospital thinking he was in a somewhat unhealthy relationship with the younger man.

“She knows you, I wasn’t outing you...” Scott said, clearly reading his mind.

“Oh.” Derek said for the third time, trying to think of nurses he knew in the hospital and coming up blank.

“Yeah, she was the one who arranged for the room...?”

“Ohhhhh!” Derek said, surprised, he hadn’t thought she was old enough to have a son Scott’s age. “She looks young.” He said and it was Scott’s turn to give him a sideways look.

“No perving on my Mom, it’s bad enough having you as a sponsor, I don’t want you as a Step-Dad too.”  Derek gritted his teeth and allowed the younger man to open the door to the meeting and start setting up chairs.  He tried to be a good sponsor, to keep Scott on track and focused on his recovery, but at every turn the younger man seemed hell-bent on reminding Derek that they didn’t get on socially.  He took solace in the fact that in future years, hopefully with many years behind him, Scott would look back on his behaviour and realise that Derek only had his best interest at heart.

There were only setting up for a couple of minutes before Peter appeared, whistling a happy tune which faltered and died when he walked into the tension of the meeting room.  Rather than greet either of them, he just went about fixing the teas and coffees, sharing a loaded glance with his nephew as he did.

As they were finishing up, a knock on the door left Scott finishing up the chairs and a grateful Derek free to greet the first member.  When he opened the door he was slightly surprised to see a young man he didn’t know standing at the door.  He was tall and lithe, wearing a checked shirt over a graphic T and an un-zipped red hoodie.  He smiled wide when Derek opened the door and greeted the older man happily. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Derek replied instinctively.  Blushing slightly he looked away and scolded himself for the butterflies in his stomach.  “Is this your first meeting?” He asked, though he doubted it; this guy seemed collected and happy, not the standard scared desperation most newcomers had.

“Nah.” The young man said with smile.  “I’m a couple of years in, but I’ve just moved here. I’m Stiles.” He said, extending his hand for Derek to shake; which he did firmly.  “Whoa, tough guy.” He laughed, shaking his hand, laughingly pretending it had hurt.

“Sorry.” Derek said instinctively.

“De nada.” Stiles stepped in past him and Derek caught a whiff of an intoxicating aftershave which made his mouth water.  “Where we going?” He asked over his shoulder.

“Through there.” Derek’s voice was hoarse and he cursed his own libido, hoping he could collect himself before his uncle noticed his behaviour.  “Hey, would you do the share?”  Derek asked.

“Really?”

Derek shrugged, “Sure, you’re young, new and if you’ve been around a couple of years I’m sure people will want to hear your experience, strength and hope.” He followed Stiles through the door as he nodded accent.

“Sure, why not? You chairing?” 

“No, my Uncle Peter probably, I’m Derek, would-“ He cut off as a blush threatened to overwhelm him.  He had been about to offer his number but, with the crush he was desperately trying to avoid developing, he found he couldn’t. 

“Derek Wood?” Stiles asked, innocently.

Derek cursed his own nervousness. “No, just Derek.  I was going to say, would you like a coffee?” He tried to force some casual neutrality to his voice but clearly failed.

“No, man, I’m good.” He said, clearly dismissing Derek as he walked over to Scott who had looked up at the newcomer.  “Hey, I’m Stiles.” He extended his hand to Derek’s sponsee who took it with a smile.

“Scott. You new?” He asked, flicking a look a Derek who was hovering nearby.

“Nope.” He said, popping his ‘p’ just like Scott did.  Derek tried not to scowl at the similarity.  “Couple of years, just moved to Beacon Hills. You?”

“Almost three months, well, seventy-two days.” He said, sounding embarrassed, like that wasn’t an amazing achievement.

“That’s awesome mate, well done. Christ, look at you doing service too...” Stiles shook his head.  “I was useless in meetings til about six months...” He smiled at Scott who smiled back, clearly taken in by the young boy’s smile.  “You live round here?”

“Yeah, all my life, Mom’s a nurse in the hospital here.”

“Handy.  My Dad’s a sheriff, just moved here, he’s starting in like a month.”

“Oh cool, so you seen the sights yet?”

“Nope, still in unpacking mode – boxes everywhere!” Stiles flailed his arms and Scott chuckled.

“Maybe we could hang out sometime?”

“Sure, that’d be ace.  I know literally no-one here and my X-Box is in an unspecified box somewhere... I’m going nuts.”

“Nightmare!” Scott laughed, “Maybe you can come to mine, I’ve just got Dying Light...?”

“Oh my God!” Stiles grabbed the other boy by the shoulders. “New best friend vacancy now filled!”

“I have a playstation 2.” Derek said to the two boys who turned to him with equally blank looks, though Stiles’ fell into amused, while Scott just looked piteous. “At home.  I play games on it.”  There was a lingering silence until Stiles generously filled it.

“Uh-huh.  I think I remember Platstation 2... that must be... fun.” He said, lips writhing, hiding a laugh.  He turned back to Scott, “Gimmie your digits man.” He said, pulling out his phone as Derek turned on his heel to find his uncle leadning, cross-armed against the doorframe.  He was looking knowingly at Derek and followed him to the kitchen.

“Well... that wasn’t embarrassing.” Peter said, clearly enjoying himself.

“Shut up Peter.” Derek mumbled without any force.  It had been a long time since he’d felt any sort of romantic feelings for anyone.  Not since his early sobriety.  He’d poured so much focus into his recovery, into improving his life one day at a time he hadn’t really thought about dating and, in less than two minutes, Stiles had battered a school-boy level crush into him.  He groaned and splashed water on his face, remembering he’d asked the young man to share, meaning Derek would have to stare at him for the entire first half of the meeting.

“I’m not saying anything... but... really?” Peter asked, genuinely surprised.  Derek knew he liked guys as well as girls but, beyond correcting his uncle when he called him straight, he’d not really acted on any fleeting feelings for guys he’d had. 

“I don’t know. He’s cute...” Derek whispered, making sure he wasn’t overheard, though, going by the laughter coming from the main room, he needn’t have worried.  “It was just a surprise to find someone cute in the rooms, I thought I was beyond that...” Peter gave him an odd look that Derek couldn’t quite place.  “What...?” He asked.

“Nothing... just... nothing.” Peter said shaking his head, stepping aside as the door went and Derek moved to answer it.  It wasn’t a particularly large meeting, just over a dozen.  After the initial few weeks, numbers had picked up as the younger members of AA all started turning up at the meeting.  As he had hoped, Derek met a lot of new people and solidified some burgeoning friendships; even with the pull of his irksome sponsee.

One of the knocks on the door led Derek to greeting the most surly, yet undeniably handsome, young man he’d ever met.  As he didn’t recognise him he asked the standard question: “Hi, is this your first meeting?”

The other boy had looked at him witheringly, “No.” Derek had been taken aback about how venomous the young man had sounded, even with only one word.

“OK, well I’m Derek.” He said, offering his hand to shake.  The young man had looked him up and down before shaking it.

“Jackson.” He said and walked in, sweeping past Derek and straight to the coffee.  Rolling his eyes, Derek let him past and checked the clock noting that the meeting was just about to begin.

Peter began the meeting on the dot of eight and Derek focused his attention on his uncle rather than the young man next to him.  When he did sneak a glance he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t attracted to Stiles - especially as he watched his nimble fingers toy with the empty glass in front of him, rolling it over and round, always looking on the verge of dropping it but not quite.  When Peter passed the meeting to Stiles Derek blinked, shocked.  He’d missed the preamble and clearly the sneaky glance he thought he’d stolen was more of a lingering stare.

“Hey everyone. My names Stiles and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi Stiles,” Derek intoned with everyone else, though he added a little more volume than usual, wanting to stand out in the throng. He received a quick glance and a smile for his effects and Derek felt his heart swell a little in pride.

“First of all, thank you Peter for chairing the meeting and Derek and Scott for opening and... oh... you don’t have a reader.” He looked around the room and shook his head before leaning back in his chair.  “Man I love AA.  Everywhere you go every meeting looks exactly the same but then... See, back home, after the preamble and before the share, someone reads a passage from the big book.  They either choose or the opener,” He nodded to Derek who sat up a bit straighter. “will help them with an appropriate passage. We could do that service from day one... well, day two maybe.” He added with a grin to polite chuckles.

“I didn’t get to read until I was about three weeks in, no reason I think, I just wasn’t asked... I was obsessed with it too, properly fixated on it.  I’d gone to, like, three meetings a day until I was asked to read.  I think that I had equated reading from the Big Book at a meeting to being accepted in AA? That was one of my issues, my character defects.  I never felt I fit.

“School was a nightmare for me.” Stiles started tapping a pencil off the desk. “I had, have, ADHD and they just didn’t know what to do with me.  But, I used to look around at everyone else and I thought they all had it sorted.  I looked around at all these teenagers right? Teenagers?! And thought they knew what they were doing... They probably knew F All.  But... to me...” Stiles shifted a sat forward, clearly hoping they were getting his point.

“It was like, I thought that everyone else had the rule book for life and mine was just missing? Yeah? Every situation I would watch other people and see how they acted and just do that... That’s if I was thinking about it.  If I wasn’t thinking about it, I’d just react like me and that’s when everyone, teachers included would just look at me and I’d know, _know_ , that they thought I was weird.  I used to get really stressed when I thought I’d done something wrong.

“Then... ohhhhh, then.” Stiles clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “I found my Dad’s whisky stash.  And suddenly it was like...” He stopped and sighed dramatically, looking like he’d actually deflated.  “I just didn’t care.  I mean, looking back I thought it made me fit in.  It didn’t, it just made me _not care_ that I didn’t fit.  But it seemed like the perfect solution. Only trouble was it meant I had to keep being drunk, or at least a little.

“I would top up a little in the morning with vodka and OJ, then take a hipflask into school to keep me going then whatever I could get a hold of in the evenings.  It wasn’t like I had a lot of friends so it wasn’t like anyone noticed and Dad was working all hours.  But... eventually, I guess he noticed that I was topping up his whisky with water, or whatever.

“So... we sat down and had... the talk.  It was all very serious and ‘Yes, Dad’, ‘No Dad’ all the while I was thinking, ‘hang on Old Man, who’s the one buying a litres of whisky a week, right? He drank as much as I did, if not more.  But, then, he’s police and it’s expected yeah? No one expects it from the high schooler. 

“High School! They didn’t care.  I was still passing all my exams, still had a good GPA so why would they care... I’m sure some of the teachers knew I was drinking, I think... maybe...” Stiles looked off into the distance for a moment, then shook himself slightly. “I think they tried to talk to me about it, but I just stonewalled them.  I thought I knew so much better than the adults back then.  I must have been so annoying.

“That’s what I was worried about when I was in the rooms, that I was annoying people.” Derek blinked at yet another sudden change of tack.  “When I shared in the rooms, I tried to say what people wanted me to say, like, tow the AA line? But, you know what? Sometimes that made it worse – I needed to vent, to talk about my life, not reflect on the traditions, or the reading from How Bill Sees it.  You know what... Bill saw it in 1950... he’d be seeing it a lot differently if he was in AA now... women for a start and Black people!” He smiled at Scott who was sitting up and hanging off every word.

Derek frowned.  How Bill Sees It was a book which brought a lot of members a great deal of solace and was used in a lot of meetings as a tool for starting discussions and meetings.  As undeniable as his attraction was to the young man sharing, he was starting to worry slightly about his recovery.

“Same with the Big Book! Have you got the bit about ‘whoopie parties?!” Stiles looked around, pulling a face.  The majority of the room laughing.  “What on Earth is that? A whoopie party? Sounds bizarre and it may have been all the rage seventy years ago but, it’s the twenty first century! We live in a different time, a lot of the Big Book is just wrong nowadays.” At this, Derek’s back went up.  The Big Book was one of the cornerstones of recovery, a book compiled by members giving comfort, identification and support – it was in no way, ‘wrong’. 

“But that’s one of the most amazing things about AA. It’s full of experience, full of stories and we, as members, get to pick and choose what fits for us to build our own recovery.” Derek felt his own head shake in disbelief – that was almost the exact opposite of what he believed, snapping his head round to Scott he was horrified to see his sponsee nodding thoughtfully.  No doubt he was thinking how great it would be to pick and choose what he wanted, if he did though, his recovery would be built on a foundation riddled with holes.

“What works in my recovery won’t work in yours, or yours, or yours, but it works for _me_. That’s what matters.  We live in a time where there’s been so much experience in AA that so many mistakes have been made for use and so many pillars of support are there if we need it.  Now... don’t get me wrong... some things are completely necessary.  Meetings, for one.  I couldn’t do without meetings.

“Meetings are the place where my disease can not win. If I am in a meeting, I’m not drinking.  I’m in a room full of people who want me to stay sober, even if it is for hugely selfish reasons, but that’s fine with me, I’m selfish too, this is a selfish program.” Derek rolled his eyes, he’d heard this thread before but completely disagreed with it. “We do service and talk to newcomers to improve our own recovery, no other reason.  But I love meetings.  I’ve never been to a meeting and not got identification from somewhere.  And that keeps my disease down, the more often I recognise myself in other people’s shares the less my disease can try and convince me that I’m not an alcoholic and I can just _try_ and drink normally.

“Because that’s what it does.  When I see alcohol a little voice says... you’re not _really_ an alcoholic.  Not really.  But meetings, and talking to members helps remind me, ‘you know what Stiles, you are.’  Which is brilliant, because if I tried to do this on my own, I’d never manage it. Not that I have to, I have my Dad.

“Did I mention my Dad?” Stiles looked around the room, though most people seemed unsure what he was asking.  Derek looked to Scott to see the younger man smiling and happy, clearly enjoying the share.  “I mean, I did, but did I... I don’t think I did.  He’s in AA too.  We came in together.  After I left high school and had got into a _good_ school we spent the summer drinking together.

“Then... one day... I’d had a bad day.” He stopped and looked around the room.  “Sorry.  I know that my share is a bit of a hard task to follow.  I didn’t get asked to share a lot back home so haven’t really honed it down, you know... just... sorry if it’s hard to keep up. Anyway... I’d had a bad day, I’d broken up with... someone... this person had made a ridiculous ultimatum,” he put on a deeper voice, “‘It’s me or the drink.’ Well... that was easy.  He... this person,” He corrected with a grimace, no doubt not having meant to share the gender of this ex, thought the admission sent a jolt of hope through Derek, hope he tried to squash.  Even if he did think Stiles was attractive, he was, firstly, in the program and secondly, clearly someone with a rocky recovery. “This person had been with me for about six weeks...? Alcohol had been with me for a couple of years by then.

“Easy choice huh? But... well... it still hurt and I spent the next day drinking and drinking. I don’t think I ate but by the time my Dad got home I was in a pretty bad way.  I must have convinced him to take a drink with me but... see the trouble is that I was in black out at this point so it’s all second hand... But well, long story short I got alcohol poisoning and end up in A and E. 

“When I came to, it was a wakeup call for Dad.  And me I guess. But he was insistent that we both stop drinking.  I wasn’t that into it at first.  Didn’t think it was necessary, but then... the more I went the harder it was not to drink.  I had to start sharing properly, not just saying what was expected of me.  But, it took, thank God.” Stiles said and rapped the table with his knuckles.

“Then, once I figured out I needed to be there I started reading, taking what was relevant and looking at the steps.  Ooooooooh.” He wiggled his fingers. “The big scary twelve steps.” He laughed at himself before continuing.  “They _are_ scary I think, until you do them.  But I wanted to try them so I went shopping for a sponsor.  Where I got sober? We don’t ascribe sponsors, I’m not sure what you guys do, but we never forced a sponsor on anyone... what if they didn’t fit?” Stiles asked rhetorically, but Derek felt Scott’s eyes bore into the side of his head.

“So I watched the members, you know... the survivors, the ones with strong recoveries? I watched and watched and questioned and did research.  I kept rejecting people and it took about three months but eventually I asked this woman, Carol and she said no.  I couldn’t believe it! I’d done research and watched her for weeks but she said no.  I wanted to show her the spreadsheet I’d made proving her to be the best sponsor, but...” He waved a hand dismissing the idea as the room chuckled at his past.

“Anyway, I was complaining to this other woman, Gill, twenty years sober, lovely, funny, about how dare Carol turn me down! I was going on about how long it had taken me to ask someone and she said,” Stiles squimed forward. “’Ask someone else as soon as you can.’ And I was like, ‘sure, sure, but who?’ and she went, ‘No, Stiles, ask someone else _now_.’ But I still didn’t get it until it clicked and I went, ‘Will you be my sponsor?’ and she agreed instantly.

“Bless her socks, she’d been waiting for me to ask for weeks.  So we did the steps.  Now... like meetings I would say the steps are _absolutely vital_ to your recovery.” This time it was Derek who stared into the side of Scott’s head. “We had such a laugh doing them.  My step four and five... man... that was killer.  But... we did it together and she made it so safe and easy. Man, I was lucky.

“From there we whizzed through the rest of them.  Afterwards I felt absolutely no different but... my outlook, my recovery was different.  I was more focused, more organised, which spilled into the rest of my life.  I was able to sort my school, which I’d deferred and they let me join mid-semester, not that it was much use, I was only their five minutes before we moved here, but it meant I was able to transfer to the school here _from_ a school which means a lot to me.

“So we’ve moved here and it seems nice.  This is my first meeting but people seem friendly, so yeah you’ll see more of me. Thanks for listening, sorry if it was a bit rambley.” He sat back and looked to Peter who nodded and took over.

“Thank you Stiles.  We’ll take a ten minute break, not eleven or fifteen, ten... and be back here after. Teas, coffees and biscuits are at the back of the room.”  He nodded and stood and the meeting broke up for people to get drinks or go outside for a cigarette. Derek watched Scott make a beeline for Stiles though.

“Great share, brilliant... I identified, like, all over the place.” He gushed and Stiles grinned.

“Thanks, it’s a bit all over the place...” He responding, grimacing a little.

“No, it was honest, brilliant.  Listen, can I pick your brain over Step 4 at some point... my sponsor and I are... struggling.” He said and Derek felt his face flush in shame and anger. Turning away from the boys he came face to face with the other new youngster, Jackson.

“Will you sign this?” He said thrusting a green card and a pen at Derek who inhaled sharply, though he did his best to hide his surprise.  Jackson was holding a court order card; he was attending AA under the instruction of a judge.  Derek nodded out of the room and into the kitchen.

“I thought they weren’t doing this anymore.”

“It’s voluntary, it was part of my plea.” Jackson said, waving the card at Derek again, clearly expecting the older man to take it.

Thinking on his feet, he shook his head, “I’ll sign at the end of the meeting.” The younger man glared at him for a few seconds then stalked back into the main room.  Derek watched him go, thoughtful and uncomfortable.  The incidence of judges and courts mandating that people with drink problems attend AA had become rarer as lawyers challenged it on the grounds AA was a religious organisation, but it still happened.  Essentially it meant that, normally as a condition of probation, an individual _had to_ go to at least one meeting a day. Openers or Chairpeople could initial the card, or right their first name, providing they kept anonymity, but they didn’t have to.

Sighing, Derek followed Jackson back into the meeting and sat next to him.  “You do know that no one _has_ to sign that, right? That you should ask at the start of the meeting?”

The younger man looked at him like he was a piece of dirt, “It’s signing your name.” He said, like it was nothing.

“It’s not something everyone is comfortable with.” Derek explained.

“Whatever.” Jackson looked away, stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles, looking like he owned the place.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” It was utterly and completely definite. Derek nodded but remained where he was in case the younger man changed his mind. He didn’t.

Peter called the meeting back to order after exactly ten minutes. “Thank you everyone.” He paused for people to sit down again. “Right, thank you Stiles for that share.  It was... I liked how you talked about the pillars of support.  It’s a great way of thinking about recovery, how everything is based on a strong structure.  I’ve spoken a little already so I’m just going to turn the meeting over to you, remember, if you all share responsibly we should get round. Derek?”

As he’d moved seat to sit next to Jackson, he was the first in the semi-circle.  He turned to look at Stiles who was watching him expectedly.  Cursing inwardly, Derek tried to select his words carefully; normally he thought about the exact words to use as the shares came round to him. “Oh, right. My name’s Derek and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi Derek.” The room replied but he was focused on Stiles and had to admit he liked the sound of his name coming out of the younger man’s mouth. “Thank you Stiles, that was... random.” He smiled at the young man to show it was meant kindly and was pleased to see the smile he got in return. “Errr, it sounds like we have a very different style of recovery but I, like you, believe in the power of the twelve steps.  The person I was before I started them was very different to who I am now.” He frowned and risked a quick glance at Scott who was glaring at him; no doubt remembering how obstinately Scott maintained that AA wouldn’t change him.

“But the main thing being that the Steps _are_ so important.  AA is based around them, our recoveries are based around them so doing them and doing them right are so important.  I think we need to look at AA like we look at the steps – every part of it is important.  No one part is more important as the other, a whole and full recovery can’t be lived in half measures.  If we don’t give ourselves completely to the program we stand the risk of falling.

“That’s just what I think.” He added, lamely, trying his best to ignore the slight frown on Stiles’ face.

“Thank you Derek.” Peter said and turned to Jackson. “You don’t have to share if you don’t want to, we’re all just happy that you made it here.”

“Pass.” The younger man said sullenly.

“That’s fine. Keep coming back.” Peter said before turning to the next person round the semi-circle.  Derek faded in and out of attention, focused on the intensity in which Stiles listened to the member’s responses to his share.  He was still in a way he hadn’t been when talking, like he was trying to absorb everything. Derek frowned as he studied the younger man; he liked him, physically that was obvious, but... his recovery was so different from Derek’s and even if it wasn’t, they were both in the program.  Relationships within AA were frowned upon, his own sponsor had warned him about just how co-dependent those types of relationships were. Still...

“Thank you Allison, Scott.” Peter said, and Derek snapped back to attention.

“Thank you Stiles, that share was like... boom!” He mimed his head exploding. “So much... the thinking other people had a life manual, copying what other people did, my Dad’s alcoholic too, but we’re not in touch like you and your Dad and just everything.  The way you approach your recovery... and you seem so happy and collected.” At this Stiles laughed and shook his head. “Well... to me you do.

“The biggest thing is though, I think... well, I’ve been talking in meetings for a couple of months now and a lot of the time I’m just saying what I think I should be saying, I’m not actually saying what I think. I’m... I’m scared I guess. If I share honestly then I’ll... I don’t know, that people will tell me I’m doing it wrong?” Stiles nodded and gave him a sad smile.

“Well, yeah, maybe I need to look at how I’m approaching all this... That’s all. Oh, I’m Scott and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi Scott.” Derek said quietly with everyone else, he’d not realised that his sponsee was so disaffected with AA.  The rest of the meeting flew past with Derek reassessing all the work he and Scott had done together.  He couldn’t help but think maybe he wasn’t the right one to lead Scott through his recovery.  Before he knew it, Peter was closing the meeting.

“Thank you everyone, we’ll end the meeting the way every AA meeting ends, with the serenity prayer. Please link hands and join in using the word God as you do or do not understand it.” Stiles and Peter stepped out from behind the table and the younger man extended his hand to Derek, who took it, swallowing thickly.  Stiles’ hand was warm and dry in his and Derek gave it a little squeeze which elicited a surprised smile from the younger man.  Turning away to hide his grin, Derek took Jackson’s hand ignoring the other man’s grunt of displeasure. Ignoring him, Derek calmed and felt the familiar sense of calm come over him as the prayer started.  “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference. Amen.” He gave each of the hands he was holding another reassuring squeeze but Jackson still pulled away as quickly as he could.

Knowing he’d want his formed signed but unwilling to be overly helpful to the grumpy man, Derek turned to Stiles.  “Thanks Stiles.” He said and held out his hand to shake. The younger man laughed and shook his head.

“No thanks, my hand is crushed enough as it is.” Laughing Stiles took a step forward and took Derek in a surprising hug.  “Nice meeting.” He said in his ear.  Derek shivered a little at the intimacy but was completely at a loss of what to say.  “Hey,” Stiles added releasing the hug, “can I get your number... new in town?” He added with a smile.  It was completely natural, the same thing any and every member should do when moving to a new town but Derek was still oddly nervous as he nodded and gave it.  “Thanks man.” Stiles said and turned to Scott who had been hovering beside them.

Derek gratefully turned to the less-confusing Jackson who was standing with one immaculate eyebrow raised. “Here.” He said passing the card to Derek who initialled and dated it in the next empty box.  “Thanks.” He said as it was returned.

“No problem.” He said to the young man’s back as he stalked quickly out of the room, not talking to anyone as he left.

Derek shook his head, between Scott, Jackson and Stiles he had a funny feeling that life was going to get a lot more complicated.


	4. Scott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Scott's first share and also a few new characters...

Derek sat at the table fiddling with his phone.  It wasn’t like Scott to be late, and he hadn’t expected it then, of all days.  He was resolutely not looking over at the table where Jackson was talking to a clean-shaven, attractive young man; though Derek was aware he looked slightly less sullen than usual and even gave a wry smile at things the other boy said.  Jackson hadn’t even nodded hello at Derek so he ignored the young man right back.  It wasn’t uncommon in AA to see people in public and not communicate at all so he wasn’t bothered by it.

He was, however, bothered about his sponsee not being where he was supposed to be.  Suddenly his phone beeped with a message saying that Scott was on his way and apologising for being late. Sighing with relief – he didn’t really think his sponsee would have picked up a drink, but it was gratifying to know he hadn’t – he scrolled back through their previous texts, scowling a little when he got the bit about Stiles.

Since the younger man’s share, Scott had been ducking out on coffees and phone calls always with the same excuse – I’m spending time with a member.  At the beginning of Scott’s recovery, Derek had encouraged his sponsee in getting to know other alcoholics but, with Stiles – he never said it was Stiles, but Derek knew, he _knew_ – he didn’t like it.  A small part of him recognised he was feeling jealous, not just of how much time Scott was spending with the new guy, but how quickly he must have been trusting his new friend.  Derek couldn’t help but feel that Stiles recovery was too scattershot, too unfocused for someone like Scott who was so resistant to so much of AA.

Thinking about the younger man made Derek remember the week before, two after he’d first met Stiles.  Scott had been working on a night shift and couldn’t get away, but Derek had received a text from Stiles asking if he wanted coffee before the meeting.  He’d done his best not to get excited about it but still changed his clothes three times – settling on a tight grey Henley which accentuated his musculature perfectly – and even got a haircut in readiness for his non-date.  He was resolutely ignoring his own confusion over his feelings for the younger man.  Unhealthy, he knew, but he just couldn’t help it.

When Stiles arrived at the café, the way his pupils had blown and cheeks reddened at the sight of Derek had made the older man almost preen in delight.  In the two weeks since the meeting he’d decided that, seeing as both of them had been through the full twelve step program and each had at least two years behind them, maybe, if something happened it wouldn’t be the worst thing.  He just wanted to make sure Stiles’ recovery was secure.  Derek was a firm believer in recovery being the most important thing in a recovering alcoholic’s life and if Stiles turned out not to have a strong recovery, or would threaten Derek’s he knew he had to leave him well alone.

Stiles had sat and stared at Derek’s shoulders for a second before he’d taken pity on the younger man and offered to get them coffees.  Stiles had just nodded and swallowed thickly.  Derek had been grinning when he got their drinks, even when the woman behind the counter had pointedly asked him where Scott was.  She had seemed unconvinced by Derek’s assurances that, not only was he working, but he was well aware of he and Stiles meeting.  The huff he had received along with the coffees said volumes; he could only imagine that Scott’s Mom would be told yet more tall tales.

When he’d returned to the table, they’d made small chit chat about Stiles’ move and Beacon Hills generally until the younger man had sighed a little and leant forward, putting his elbows on the table.  Derek had matched his pose, bringing his face delightfully close to the object of his affection. “I want to talk to you about Scott.”

This admission from Stiles had forced Derek to sink back into his chair and fold his arms across his chest.  “I can’t talk to you about Scott.” He’d replied, hoping his demeanor would elicit a change in topic.

Stiles hadn’t been deterred. “Dude, I know you’re his sponsor… I also know that you’ve not been getting on all that well.”

“Don’t call me ‘dude’.” Derek had replied.

“Yeah, OK. Well… he asked me to be his sponsor.”

Derek had closed his eyes against the surprise and deep hurt.  He knew that Scott found him a bit hard, but he honestly thought they were making progress together.  “So… you’re his sponsor now? What are you after? Notes?” Derek had surprised even himself by how bitter he’d sounded.

“What? No.” Stiles had said and Derek had looked at him once more, saw how the younger man was frowning in concern. “I told him no.”

“Why?” Derek asked instinctively.

“Because, and this is what I told him too, I think Scott and I would be better at friends – I don’t want to be responsible for his recovery, or have that power dynamic with him.  I also told him he didn’t need me as it sounded like he had a pretty decent sponsor anyway.”  Stiles had added with a lop-sided smile. Derek had blinked in surprise; after Stiles’ share, he would have expected the younger man to be dead against how rigid Derek worked the program.

“I did not expect that.” He had admitted slowly and Stiles shrugged.

“Don’t get me wrong… if you were _my_ sponsor I’d be planning how to kill you in your sleep but…” Stiles smiled around the insult though Derek’s eyes had still bulged with surprise. “I think you work for Scott.  I don’t think he knows it but he likes having someone to rebel against, someone to work _from_.  You know… he knows a lot more about AA and recovery than he lets on, mostly he’s fighting and arguing to see what you’ll do…”

Derek had thought about what Stiles had said and was about to respond but the younger man wasn’t finished. “That doesn’t mean that you two should keep going the way you have.  Look, I’m talking to you because you’re older and got more recovery under your belt.  You need to _back off_.” He had said insistently.  “You don’t always know best and he doesn’t always need advice.  Sometimes he just wants to talk and not have you go ‘What you want to do is…’ It winds him up… you know?”

Unable to help himself Derek had tried to argue. “But… I can see where he’s going wrong.”

“So let him!” Stiles had interrupted.

“No way! What if it effects his recovery? What if he drinks again?”

Stiles had sat back too. “OK, that’s fair… but… Scott knows the basics, he’s got numbers, friends and a sponsor… if he goes to a party and feels wobbly, he knows what to do.” Stiles had been referencing an argument Derek and Scott had had over his attending a birthday party at a bar – Derek had adviced, strongly, that he not go.  It was in the Big Book, clear as day; to avoid places where people are drinking.

“It’s in the Big Book,” he’d argued, “We should avoid going to bars.”

“Unless we have a valid reason for being there.” Stiles had finished, taking Derek aback somewhat – he hadn’t expected the younger man to know that part.

“He’s still in early recovery.” Derek had changed tack.

“So?” Stiles had asked, seemingly genuinely.

“What do you mean ‘so’? He’s still learning, I’ve got a lot more sobriety under me, he should-“

“No you don’t.” Stiles had interrupted quietly.

“Excuse me?!” Derek had asked, incredulous.

“No, you don’t.  You, Scott, me, every member has exactly the same amount of recovery.  We have today.” Stiles was silent while Derek hung his head a little.  “I’m grateful I didn’t drink yesterday, I’m using my strength not to drink today and hope I won’t drink tomorrow.  If we work the program, that’s what we get.  Numbers of days and anniversaries and chips and steps are great but in the end all we really get is today.  That’s all.  We live one day at a time for a reason.  No one knows what the future holds, but we do our best to live it sober and every single one of us are exactly the same distance from a drink.  The length of our arm.  Scott has done everything right, he’s done his ninety in ninety, he’s got numbers, he’s been to meetings, he’s read the Big Book, he even speaks to his grumpy-ass sponsor every day, despite said sponsor being forced on him and not of his choosing – so… cut the guy some slack, give him some credit and _talk to him_ not _at_ him, ‘kay?”

Derek had sat back and looked at Stiles in a completely new light.  Sure his recovery wasn’t the same as Derek’s but… maybe it was better, deeper.  Derek still knew his exact day count – 1342 days – and still obsessed over the future.  He planned every interaction and thought about every environment he was going to walk into, assessing it for alcoholic traps. 

“OK.  Maybe you’re right.” Derek had grudgingly agreed.

“Dude the sooner you accept that fact as a golden rule, the happier you’ll be.” He had grinned at Derek and forced a laugh out of him.

“Don’t call me dude.” He had tried again but Stiles had just laughed.  The rest of their coffee and the meeting had been enjoyable but Stiles’ words had stuck with him.  Maybe he was too focused, too controlling.

In the present, sitting at the table, alone, waiting for Scott though was a good way of practicing giving up control.  Just as he was about to leave, he saw the younger man jog through the door.  Greeting him with smile, Derek waved away the apology – it really didn’t matter.  “So… how you doing?” He asked and Scott slumped in his chair.

“I’m OK. Tired.  Stiles has been helping me sort my schooling, turns out I _can_ transfer some of my credits, so maybe I’ll be able to head back to college soon, which would be good.”  Derek had nodded, not adding his own thoughts on what a stressful change that might be for the younger man and how AA suggests not making any significant changes in the first year of sobriety.  Scott looked at him oddly for a moment before continuing. “Anyway… between that, work and meetings, I’m pretty bushed.  At least I don’t have to do a meeting every day any more…” He added looking at Derek through his eyelashes, head down.

“That’s right.” He said, forcing back the words he longed to say. “You’ve done really well getting your ninety in ninety, not everyone does.” Scott blinked at him and a slow smile crept over his face.

“Thanks Derek.” Was all he said and they sat in silence for a few seconds.  “Oh, did you ask?”

Without having to ask, Derek knew what he was talking about.  “I asked Peter and he agreed, we’ll add it to the business meeting, but for this one we’ll just have to ask for a group conscience when the meeting starts. I think it’s a good idea, for what it’s worth. Will that be OK for… who you want to come…?”

“Yeah… no problem, I’ve a text ready either way and she’s nearby so… I read about it online, this big meeting in New York does it.  I just liked that milestones like thirty days or ninety days or year-birthdays were open meeting so that people’s family and friends could come, you know, help them celebrate.”

“Yeah. I like open meetings too… people feel better about attending them, you know. You gonna help set up?”  He asked and Scott laughed.

“What? No lectures? No advice? It’s my first share, D! I’m nervous.”

“No, just be honest, you’ll be fine.  Here.”  He pulled the ninety day chip out of his pocket and slid it across the table.  Scott grinned and picked it up, holding it in his hands, not putting it away. They stood up and were about to go when Derek heard a nervous cough from behind him.  He turned to find the good-looking boy Jackson had been talking to stood nervously before him. “Can I help you?” He asked, carefully, looking round to see Jackson studiously ignoring them.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but… did I hear right? That the meeting tonight might be open?”

“Possibly. You… know about meetings?” Derek asked, trying to ascertain who exactly this boy was.

“Yeah, yes.  I’m Danny, I’m Jackson’s best friend.”  He held out his hand to Derek who shook it introducing himself, but leaving Scott out of it – it was up to him whether he wanted Danny to know his name or not. “I’ve been trying to support him since… what happened… but it’s hard, I’ve read up on alcoholism online but…” He grimaced and Derek nodded.

“I understand.  Good for you for being there for him.” Derek still didn’t know Jackson’s story.  He’d been at each Young and Sober since his first meeting three weeks before and he’d seen him at other meetings but each time he just passed and didn’t say anything; just got his card signed and left.  Derek didn’t hold out a lot of hope of Jackson staying around after the court order ran out.

“Thanks.  He’s not always a jerk…” Danny turned to look back at his friend.  “He’s just… hurting.”  Derek tried not to frown as he nodded.

“OK. Well… one of our members asked for it to be an open meeting as they’re celebrating their ninety day sobriety but we need to check with whoever is in the meeting first… so it _might_ be.  I can come and let you know if you want to wait here?”

“Man, yeah. That’d be great. Thank you so much.” Danny smiled a dimpled grin and walked off, back to his friend.  Derek turned back to Scott who shrugged and they left the café, heading to the meeting.

As they reached the corridor Derek saw his uncle nervously looking up and down the corridor, seemingly guarding the kitchen door.  When he saw the two of them he beckoned Derek to him. “I’ve a newcomer in the kitchen. All the stuff is out but needs set up.”

“OK.” Scott had nodded, “I’ll make a start.” He said, vanishing into the room. 

Peter thanked him and turned back to his nephew.  “I don’t know how long I’ll be… he seems a bit… nervy.” He ended in a whisper.

“That’s OK.  I’ll do the door and ask a member to do the chair, so don’t worry about getting out for eight o’clock, Stiles is coming, I think Scott would like that…”

Peter turned to look his dead in the eye, “ _Scott_ would like that, huh?” He asked with a familiar smirk.

“Oh, shut up.  Hey, will you check with the newcomer if he minds that the meeting be open? I think it would be a friend of Jackson’s and one of Scott’s, maybe a girlfriend?”

“I’ll check, will you ask the room at eight yeah?” Peter asked and after Derek nodded said, “Wait.  _Jackson’s_ friend? Passing, quiet Jackson?”

“I know…” Derek spread his arms and shrugged before heading to help Scott set up.  Stiles arrived next and happily agreed to chair the ninety day celebration – Scott had actually hit ninety days a few days before but Young and Sober was his home group so he wanted it to be his first share.  Derek left the two younger men to set up and focused on answering the door and steering people away from the kitchen.

On the dot of eight, Stiles and Scott were sitting at the top table - the latter looking decidedly pale and wan – and Derek stood at the door and asked for attention.  “As it’s Scott’s ninety day celebration there’s a suggestion we make the meeting open, I know there are two non-members who would attend but they’d obviously be expected to follow AA guidelines.  Is there any objections to this? It’s absolutely fine if there is…” Derek assured and looked around the meeting to find everyone either shrugging or shaking their heads.  “OK, well, I’m going to go let one of them know… Stiles?” He asked and left the room as he heard the younger man welcome everyone and start the preamble.

He only had to go to the end of the corridor to find a nervous looking Danny standing opposite, though not interacting with, the nurse who Derek had organsied the room with.  Scott’s Mom, he remembered.  “It’s an open meeting, if you want to follow me?” He said and led them back to the rooms.  Just before he went in, he turned to smile at them.  “Relax and listen, if you have questions, ask me at the break, OK?” They both nodded and he opened the door, whispering “sit anywhere.” As they walked past him. 

Scott sat up straighter as his Mom came in, though Jackson seemed to sink lower in his seat as Danny sat next to him.  Derek took his seat as Peter and a tall, scared looking teen walked in.  The boy had wavy, almost curly, dark blonde hair and looked almost shifty as his eyes darted everywhere at once.  He seemed stuck on Peter and followed him to a seat, eyes widening as he realised people were looking at him; his breathing seemed to grow more rapid and it wasn’t until Peter placed a hand on his shoulder that he calmed down.

“OK. Well… I feel I should maybe read the Preamble again, but seeing we have a lot of people today and time is moving on I’ll just read the Blue Card.” Stiles flipped it over to get the open meeting text. “This is an open meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous.  We are glad you are all here--especially newcomers.  In keeping with our singleness of purpose and our Third Tradition which states that “The only requirement for A.A. membership is a desire to stop drinking,” we ask that all who participate confine their discussion to their problems with alcohol.  Or… in other words,” Stiles clarified. “What is said in the rooms, _stays_ in the rooms.  This is an anonymous program, we can’t get healthy if we can’t share honestly, so please respect that you _cannot_ talk about what you hear in here, out there.

“Now… it is my great honour and privilege to be chairing tonight.  Not least because it’s the first time I’ve been asked to in Beacon Hills, but because I get to sit next to one of the nicest, most awesomest, funny, dedicated and rubbish Call of Duty players ever.” Scott punched him on the arm and the room laughed, happy to be able to enjoy a light moment; sometimes a rarity in AA.  “In all seriousness though.  Scott was one of the first people I talked to in Beacon Hills and I’ve been really impressed with his attitude to his recovery and all the hard work he’s put in.  If you ever wanted a living embodiment of ‘It works if you work it…’” Stiles hiked a thumb at his friend. “So, I’m looking forward to hearing his _first share_ having made his ninety days a couple of days ago.”  Derek led the applause and grinned at his sponsee who looked decidedly embarrassed.  “So, I’ll pass over to Scott, Scott?”

The other boy smiled at his friend and looked to the room, taking a deep breath.  “Thanks Stiles, I’m Scott and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi Scott.” Derek watched Danny and Scott’s Mom who both looked a little surprised but they shared a small smile, no doubt thinking the same thing.

“Oh, and thank you to Peter and Derek for opening and to you all for making this meeting open.  It means a lot to me.  While I really do appreciate all the support I get in the rooms, it’s the support I get at home that pulls me through some days so I really wanted my Mom to see me here,” He gestured to the woman who came in with Derek and Danny; she blushed furiously and shook her head, “with this.” Scott held up his ninety day chip.

“When I first started in AA, I didn’t really see the point of chips, but now… I get it.  It’s a physical representation of what I’ve achieved.  _I’ve_ done this.  I’ve done something hard and this is what I get.  Actually… I don’t know if this story is shared a lot in AA, I’d not heard it yet, but maybe it is.  I was reading about AA, as you do,” he huffed a small laugh which was shared by the members in the room – they all remembered reading up on AA at some point in their recovery; there’s only so long that you can be in the program before you get curious about it’s history.

“And I found out about this nun, a Sister Ignatia?” He asked, turning to Derek, who nodded along with a few other members. “Yeah, and she was apparently really big on helping alcoholics back in the long ago times.  She would give them a medal or a coin, I think it was a sacred heart… maybe… anyway, a coin and she made people promise to come and give her the coin back before they picked up a drink.  I think that’s kinda cool.  I mean, I don’t know if it’s true, or even helped, but I like the idea.  I still have my one day chip, and my thirty day.  They help.  Like when I want a drink, if I can’t call my sponsor, or my friends,” He rocked to the side and bumped shoulders with Stiles, “I can look at my chip and it helps me remember.

“With the one day chip it helped me remember I could do it.  One day.  That was hard at first.  Lasting through the whole day?  One of the members,” he shared a smile with Allison, a woman he’d become good friends with, “told me that if you can’t last a day, last an hour, if you can’t last an hour, last a minute.  And there were days when it got that bad.  I wanted a drink so bad I was literally just not drinking for one minute at a time and for some of those minutes I was just reciting the serenity prayer, which is the only prayer I know…

“But I lasted.  Normally I lasted until I could get to a meeting, or talk to a member, but sometimes I would last until I could talk to Mom, who would always listen.  She’s the best.” He said and the room once more turned their attention to the woman who was mock-glaring at her son.  “I can’t tell you how weird it was to walk into a meeting on days like that.  It was like I could physically feel a weight being lifted from me, that my vision became clear, you know?”  It wasn’t really a question but Derek caught the new boy next to Peter nodding vigorously.  Scott clearly saw too and nodded with him.

“That’s what kept me coming back.  That feeling? I’d tried for a few weeks to stop on my own and man did I try.  I did diaries, and only on a weekend, and not before five and not if I had early classes and tried every other drink being soda… all that did was mean I had a table full of undrunk sodas.” He ended with a smile. “But when I’m sitting in a meeting with other alcoholics, or having coffee with one, I genuinely don’t want to drink.  I think it’s because I know that I can’t? So I’m safer? Like… I’m with people who wouldn’t let me, so I can relax a little.

“Because… this is hard work.  Like seriously.  there are some days where it’s felt like all I’ve done is think about drinking but… even now… looking at my ninety days? My worst day at ninety is still better than my best at thirty… did that make sense?”  He waited for the nods before continuing.  “So I guess I’m getting better. So I keep coming back.  And I’ll work my steps…

“Man! The twelve steps.”  He puffed out a sigh.  “They are _hard_.  I’m kinda trapped on my step four at the moment but I think that’s normal? So I’m not that bothered.  My sponsor’s backed off a little which helps.” Derek did his best not to shift or fidget.  Most people had probably guessed at their relationship, it wasn’t a secret, but it still felt weird hearing about himself in the third person.  “So yeah.  I get a lot of strength from members, and meetings and the rooms.  And my sponsor.”

“’Coz… I don’t think I’ve ever really shared how much I drank.  But it was a lot.  Like… a _lot._ Enough that everyone I knew had said at some point ‘maybe you should cut back’ or something like that.  But I just didn’t know how and I was too scared to ask for help.  Scared of what? I don’t know… maybe looking weak, or being told something I didn’t want to hear? 

“I just know that acceptance isn’t something I’m very good at.  Ever since my Dad walked out on us I’ve been a bit… untrusting? I guess…” He was looking at a point on the wall, refusing to see what his words were doing to his Mom. “I focused on being there for other people, for being the one they could turn to.  It made it easier to ignore all the shit in my head if I could focus on helping others, you know?

“Sort of like, ‘I know I’m fucked up but _this person_ needs me more so I’ll just leave my issues for later,’ which just meant it got worse and worse.  Then I poured drink on it.  My God.  What a bad idea.  It seemed like a solution… Like, when I was drunk I thought all my problems and fears were gone… they weren’t, they were just being shouted down by this ‘magic fun juice’” he said in air quotes.  “Everything I was scared of… being alone, abandoned, failing, letting down people I loved… it was all there waiting for me, but alcohol made it all seem… further away? Like it was happening to someone else.

“Yeah, like…” He shifted forward and Derek leant in; Scott had never been so verbal about his internal fears before and he wanted to catch it all. “When I was drunk I was able to sidestep all the voices in my head telling me I wasn’t good enough and I be what I thought I should be…

“Of course… it didn’t… it just made me a drunk version of the scared little boy I was.  It made me thoughtless and a bit cruel… I would just ignore everything I couldn’t face and it meant, eventually I messed up at college.  That was a big wake up call.  I’d failed something.  Big style.  I’d failed and the world hadn’t ended.  I mean… don’t get me wrong, it was bad and I wish it hadn’t happened but it wasn’t as bad as I’d feared.  I think I’d literally thought I would be hounded out of my life, that everyone would turn their back on me… but they didn’t.  Looking back, even my school tried to help, but I was too stubborn to accept it. 

“So I moved back here and decided to get my life in order.  Trouble was… I thought moving away meant I’d stop drinking, but my drinking followed me… a geographical I’ve heard people in AA call it… Anyway, I got the job here, at the hospital and focused on trying to get the drinking under control because I refused, _refused_ , to be like my Dad… who’s an alcoholic and in AA but, in another city.  I still don’t think we’re similar… don’t want to think we’re similar… but I really, really didn’t want to be an alcoholic.

“So… when I got in and heard all these people talking about exactly how I was thinking and feeling, I got really fucked off… I didn’t _want_ to be like this.  I wanted to come to AA and find a bunch of old, ill men and I could go ‘well… it wasn’t for me.’ But I got friendship,” he smiled easily with Stiles, ‘and identification and time to think.

“So, yeah.  I am an alcoholic.  But I’m _my_ alcoholic.  I’m not my Dad, or my sponsor or anyone else and so long as I work the program, come to meetings and spend time with members, I have every hope I won’t drink for the rest of the day. Then…? Tomorrow? Well, that’s a new day.  For today, I’m sober, happy and really, really pleased to be here. So thank you.”

There was a couple of seconds silence before Danny started applauding and he was quickly followed by Scott’s Mom and the rest of the room.  Derek joined in but shared a wry smile with his uncle.  In doing so though, he caught the look of near worship the tall, curly haired boy was sending to Scott.  Frowning a little, he made a promise to find out his story, and quickly.

Stiles raised his hand and shushed the room. “All right, all right, calm down guys.” He said with a smile.  “Thanks Scott.  We take a ten minute break now for refreshments and, I’m guessing, Mom hugs.” He said, smiling at Scott’s mother who was grinning and had tears shining in her eyes.  “So… ten minutes and we’re back. Thanks.”  Stiles stood and gave Scott a quick hug before sending him to his mother.

Derek normally used the start of the break to try and talk to Jackson, but seeing as he was engrossed in a conversation with Danny, walked to his uncle instead.  He shook Peter’s hand then extended it to the newcomer. “Hi, I’m Derek.”

“I’m Isaac.” The boy said, barely taking his eyes of Scott, who was, as expected being hugged within an inch of his life by his Mom.

“How’s your first meeting matching up to your expectations Isaac?” Derek asked and the younger man turned to him.

“Hmmm? What? Oh, it’s not my first meeting, not really.  I’m staying at the Eichan House rehab clinic, I’ve been there long enough now that they allow me out…”

“Oh. Right.” Derek said, surprised.  Eichan House was the nearest rehabilitation clinic and they tended to take on the most desperate cases; Derek couldn’t imagine what Isaac’s life had been like if he’d been placed there at such a young age. “I didn’t know that they were sending people here?” He said, genuinely surprised; Eichan House usually contacted meetings they were sending people to.

“Oh, yeah. I found out about this and got the driver to drop me off… was that not OK?” He asked Peter, who placed his hand on Isaac’s shoulder, calming him.

“It’s fine Isaac, there’s just a structure your driver ignored, not your fault.  I’ll phone Eichan House and let them know we’re happy to have you.”

“Oh, OK.” Isaac said and returned his gaze to where Scott was talking with Allison, both getting some water.

“So how did you like it?” Derek persisted.

“It was great… seeing young people? At Eichan I’m pretty much the youngest by a hundred years and it’s hard to get that identification, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s why we stared Young and Sober… So, do Eichan give you a sponsor? Work the steps?” Derek asked, though he knew the answer.

“They do a variation of it… But Peter said he’d be my sponsor when I’m out, so that’s good, right?” He asked.

Derek nodded.  “Yeah, great.  How long do you think you’ll be in Eichan for?” He asked, hoping he didn’t hit a nerve.

“I’ve got ninety days for sure, so another forty left then I get another referral but my social worker thinks maybe longer, it depends on what happens to the house.” He said though that left more questions than it answered.  “Excuse me.” Isaac said, seeing Allison move away from Scott.  Derek watched the taller boy hunch in on himself and stand with his hip cocked and legs bent a little meaning his eyes were lower than Scott’s, though it looked completely subconscious.

“Are you OK with being his sponsor?” Derek asked, knowing that Peter was normally pretty picky.

His uncle actually considered it before answering: “I think I should.  He shared a little with me about what he’s been through, he’s been pretty badly messed up and he needs a constant in his life… I _can_ do it so I should.  I mean, I’m down to one proper sponsee and he’s almost finished the twelve steps, the rest are all pretty sorted… maybe this was meant to be…” Peter said giving Isaac a thoughtful look.

“OK. Well… let me know if I can help.” Derek said moving to where Scott and Isaac were talking, bypassing the boys and getting himself a cup of coffee… if he _happened_ to be able to hear what was being said… well, so be it.

“That share was brilliant.” Isaac said, voice softer than when he spoke to Derek or Peter.

“Thanks. It was nerve-wracking.  Is this your first meeting?”

“Sort of.  I’ve not been to one outside… I’m in a rehab centre.” He admitted.

“Wow, no way!”

“Uh-huh.”

“That’s crazy… I mean…”

“No, it’s OK.  It wasn’t really my choice but it’s been good, it’s helped and I don’t have to think too much, it’s just… go here, do this, talk to this person.”

“Sounds a bit… regimented, like the army.” Scott clarified.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Do you get down time?”

“A bit, but there’s not much to do.  Only one TV and they restrict what websites we can use, lots of books though.”

“Sounds dull… are you at least allowed your phone?”

“No, we’re not allowed phones, not that I ever had one though…” He mumbled.

“No way, why not?” Scott’s youthful enthusiasm overriding any caution he may have had in asking questions which might be painful for the other boy.

“I wasn’t allowed one.” Isaac’s voice was clearly starting to tremble.

“Why not?” Scott pressed and Derek span around to interrupt.

“Hey Scott, great share. Well done.” He said before Isaac could get any more flustered.

“Oh, thanks Derek.” Scott said, seemingly having to put effort into tearing his eyes away from Isaac.

“Yeah, I really mean it.  Can I borrow you for just one second…?” He said and backed up, away from Isaac who looked torn between relieved and bereft at Scott being led away.  “I just wanted to say, I’m really proud of you.” Derek said, giving him some time to think about whether or not to mention how vulnerable Isaac seemed.

Scott’s jaw went a little slack for a second before he started smiling.  “Thanks sponsor. Come on…” He plucked Derek’s elbow and pulled him over to where Stiles and his Mom were laughing with an older man that Derek hadn’t met before.  “Mom, this is Derek. Derek, Melissa, my Mom.”

“Ahhhh,” She said with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Nice to meet you properly Derek, though I feel like I know you already, between Scott and Debbie at the café I think I’ve got quite a picture.”

“Oh God.” Derek groaned with a smile.

“She was _very_ upset about you meeting another man last week you know.”  Melissa pushed and Derek just shook his head.

“Please tell her that we’re not dating.” He begged both Scott and Melissa.

“Not a chance, this is the most fun I’ve had in years.” She said.  “Thank you though… for what you’ve been doing.” She said, serious for a moment.

“It’s my pleasure.”  He replied honestly.

“We’ll have to have you round for dinner sometime, you too Tom,” she said to the man next to Stiles, “I feel like I’ve been feeding this little terror for weeks already.” She said, poking Stiles in the stomach and laughing at his giggles. 

“Oi! Tickles! He complained and danced back.  Using the clock as an excuse he grabbed Scott and headed back to the top table. As soon as he did, everyone started heading back to their seats.  “Thank you everyone, I’m just gonna keep talking until we’re all back and have shut up so that’ll be… now.  Good.  Thanks everyone.  OK, welcome back, thank you Scott for that share.  I loved your honesty and how you talked about how much work this is… what came across to me, though, was that you genuinely seem happier and I can totally relate to that.   When I look back on early recovery… Man… it’s hard, but it does get better, if you work the program.  So, it’s your part of the meeting, share responsibly and we’ll all get round. So… first up, Dad?”

Derek’s head snapped up to the man on the other side of the room, nearest the top table; it was the man who’d been talking to Melissa.  “Thanks son.” He said wryly and Derek got the feeling this was a long suffering man, well used to his son’s antics. “I’m Tom and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi Tom.” The room replied.

“I know I’m not exactly young, but I am sober and, well… since moving here I think I’ve seen Scott almost as much as I’ve seen my own son so it felt right to be here.  Thank you Stiles for Chairing, Derek and… Peter? For opening and Scott for your share.  Even in the last couple of weeks I think I’ve seen a change in you and it was great getting to hear your story and getting to know you better.

“I’m doing OK at the moment.  Starting a new job which is stressful, but everyone seems nice and settling in to Beacon Hills well enough.  I’m grateful for all the meetings you guys have, I must say that was one of the things I looked for when I was offered the job.  But yeah, I’m OK.  Not settled on a home group yet, but I’ve upped my meetings until I find one so I’m feeling like a newbie again, but it’s nice, getting numbers and meeting people.  It restores your faith in society, seeing everyone’s hands go out to each other.  Hell, in this world there’s enough pain and hardship, it’s nice to be able to go somewhere where you know you’ll be accepted and safe.

“Anyway, I’m just going on. Thanks again Scott.”

“Thanks Dad.” Stiles said again with a smile. “Scott’s Mom?”

“I have a name Stiles!” She said in response, before turning to the room.  “I’m Melissa.”

“Hi Melissa.”

She laughed beautifully. “Oh my. Hello. I don’t really have anything to say.  I’m just happy that Scott’s happier. I knew he was hurting but didn’t know what to do.  You’d think having married an alcoholic and living with the cockweasel” Derek’s eyes bulged at the insult, but held back the laugh that threatened to force it’s way out of his mouth, ”for years I would have spotted the signs, but to my absolute shame… I didn’t.  Maybe I didn’t want to… I don’t know.

“I feel like we’ve been given a second chance, that by Scott’s coming here and making real friends, by working his… whatever you called it, I have a chance to make up for it.” She stopped as her eyes filled with tears.  “Anyway, I don’t really have anything to say…” She waved her hand and looked to the person on her right.

“Thank you Melissa.” Stiles said slowly and with deep feeling. He clearly wanted to say something, but was respecting the traditions of AA by not responding to what she said.  “Allison?”

“Thank you Stiles.” The young woman turned to Scott with a smile on her face. “I remember your first meeting.  You looked so angry.  If I remember right you’d missed my share, though I think you’ve heard me five times since… You took my number that first day and I remember wondering if you’d ever call. 

“When you did, five days later, I was surprised, I honestly was.  It took a lot of guts to make that call and I’m glad you did.  I’ve been sober a while now but getting to know you has given me a focus I didn’t think I lacked…  I’ve never known anyone, newbie or not, question as much as you… I’m just grateful I didn’t have to be your sponsor – you’d have driven me nuts.” She said with a smile and Scott chuckled.

“I remember having days when I was down to one minute at a time too.  Normally on those days I’d not done what I should have done – not followed the path I knew to work, or I’d be hungry, angry, lonely or tired, H.A.L.T? Remember?” She waited for him to nod.  “Yeah those days are hard, but… you said it in your share, the further into recovery you go the better your bad days get.  Not to say I don’t still have really hard days, just, now I think I’m better able to handle them.  Well done though my friend.” She ended with a smile.

Stiles took over, “Thank you Allison. I’m sorry I don’t your name,” he said to Danny, “but you can say something if you want, or pass, it’s up to you.”

“OK, errrrrr… I just wanted to say thanks for letting me in, for opening the meeting.  I’ve read a lot of things online and tried to learn about the program but it’s different to actually seeing it, like, for real.  I just want to help my friend.” He turned to look at Jackson who was slumped in his seat, staring down at nothing. 

When it was clear that Danny wasn’t going to speak further, Stiles nodded and moved on. “Jackson?”

“Pass.”

Stiles bit back a sigh, “Keep coming back.” He said and was about to move on when Danny spoke again.

“Jackson! You can’t just pass!” 

“Errrrr…” Stiles began but Derek shook his head, hoping that his friend’s intervention might make Jackson open up.

“This is where you get to speak.” Danny continued. “These are the people that can understand – hell, I _know_ there’s bits of what Scott said that you’ve said to me.  Come on, Jackson.” He pleaded.  Taking his cue from Derek, Stiles let the meeting going on in silence until the usually taciturn young man spoke.

“Fine. I identified.  Big deal. It doesn’t matter.  So what if we drank similarly, or _felt_ the same way.  It doesn’t change what happened, none of them had to deal with what I did… sitting there all smug and superior because they’re ‘ _working the program’_.  Whatever. Sometimes people just like to drink, because you know what? _It’s fun._ It’s fun to get drunk and have a laugh with your friends-“

“JACKSON!” Danny yelled at him, clearly shocked by what he was saying.  “What about what comes next? What about getting into a car and crashing it, not only injuring yourself, and me, by the way, but crippling some poor guy just walking home? Is that _fun_ Jackson?” Derek’s eyes widened in shock.  He hadn’t known the younger man’s story, but hadn’t been expecting that.

“Danny…” Jackson said, pain in his voice.

“No! Stop being a dick and share honestly or I swear I walk out that door and you’ll never see me again!”

Jackson stared at his friend for a second.  “Fine.” He turned to Scott. “I drank because I wanted to.  I drank because it made me feel better.  I was scared of failing too… like you said, I never failed, at anything until the day I crashed my Porsche… I’d been drinking and I don’t even remember it… That’s the kicker… I’ve in all this shit for something I don’t even remember – how is that fair?

“So now I have a criminal record, I’m on probation for _two years_ and have to attend these bullshit meetings or I go to jail.  How’s that for honest!” He ended and Danny gave one tight, curt nod.

“Keep coming back.” Stiles said and it was repeated by almost everyone in the room, Derek included.  Jackson looked a little taken aback but quickly settled into his sullen silence once again.  The next person started to talk but Derek was too focused on the small collection of young people he’d got to know.

Stiles, sitting with his focus and depth for all his joy and mania took up most of his thoughts, though Scott came a close second.  Having backed off and stopped trying to mould his sponsee into his own likeness, they’d grown closer, which Derek appreciated and he even had started to enjoy their debates on points of contention in AA.  Then there was Isaac who was looking wild-eyed at Jackson’s tirede, though comforted by Peter’s presence and Scott’s warm looks.  Then Jackson himself. 

Derek felt an odd responsibility for the angry young man.  As people were sharing he was going through all the people in AA he knew with stories which would match, or trump Jackson’s.  There were several likely candidates and he resolved to get each to the Young and Sober meeting, or introduce them to Jackson at other meetings if he could.  There were people who had done a lot worse, Derek’s first sponsor had spent twelve years in prison for murder and he was still a close friend. 

AA was non-judgemental and as much as Jackson sounded angry with the program and it’s members, Derek knew that anger was probably directed inwards too and it stemmed from fear.  At a guess, he felt it was fear of doing what he’d done and of doing it again.

Before he knew it, it was his turn to speak.  “Thank you Stiles, and Scott and Peter and everyone who’s spoken.” He paused.  “I really don’t know what to say.  A few weeks ago, I think I would have believed I had all the answers… I don’t.  All I know is that no matter what _anyone_ is going through the worst thing you can do is pour a drink on it – you said that Scott, right?

“Life is hard. Really hard and for people whose brain’s flicked the switch that means we can’t drink like normal people it’s made all the harder.  Which is why we have meetings.  We need somewhere to go to say all the crazy things that are in our heads.  Somewhere where we know we belong and are with people who understand us. 

“I’ll tell you something.  I’ve not done or thought anything that another member hasn’t thought or done.  When I got in the rooms I existed with a badge of ‘You-don’t-know-me’ I convinced myself that what I’d done was so terrible that no one would ever accept me if they knew and you know what, just after my first year a visitor, a member from another city came in and shared exactly my worst, darkest time and it was all gone.  Everything that made me unique had been spoken about in the rooms.  I’d been so upset… I had nothing left.  _That_ was my rock bottom.  That was when I started to recover properly.

“We are every one of us struggling with something, but together, if we work together this program shows we can overcome.  If you want to.  But you have to want to.”  He stopped and nodded at Stiles who was looking at him with eyes full of sympathy.

“Thank you Derek.  And thank you everyone.  We’ll close the meeting with the Serenity Prayer, which is on the wall there.” He pointed at the poster on the wall.  “Then we have the tenth tradition.  This just says that every group should be self-supporting through their own contributions.  Basically we pass a basket, or bag in this case, and if you can share a few dollars that would be great, but you don’t have to… Now, we’ll join hands.” He and Scott stepped out and linked hands, Derek once more holding hands with Stiles, though, at that moment there were no romantic thoughts in him at all.

“Using the word God as you understand it… God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.” He turned to Derek at the end and folded himself in for a hug.  “That was nice, what you said.  Think you’re on to a loss there though.” He said, looking over to Jackson who was still being hugged but Danny.

“We’ll see.” He said and walked over to the boy in question.  “Jackson.” He said and Danny let his friend go.  “Do you have a sponsor?” He said slowly and carefully.

“I don’t want to be part of your little gang Derek.”

“Do. You. Have. A. Sponsor?” He asked again.

“No. I. Do. Not.” He said, smirking and mocking the older man.

“Fine… I’m it until we can find you a better one.  You’ll phone me everyday and we’ll start on your step work.  Give me your phone.” He said and put out his hand expectantly. Jackson stood still, glaring at him until Danny dug his hand in his friend’s pocket, passing the phone to Derek who quickly phoned himself getting the younger man’s number. “There. Done. We’ll speak to tomorrow.” He said, staring Jackson down.

“I’ll see that he calls you.” Danny said but Derek waited, looming over the smaller man until Jackson nodded. 

“Fine.”  He turned on his heel and walked over to Scott to congratulate him.  _What have I done?”_ He thought to himself as he pictured trying to juggle Scott and Jackson and the rest of his life. Drawing on his inner strength he pulled himself up – anything that came his way he’d deal with, his Higher Power didn’t give him anything he wasn’t ready for and apparently he was ready for both young men.


	5. Allison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's new sponsees are taking their toll.

Derek yawned as he slowly, ever so slowly, tacked the twelve steps and traditions on to the wall.  The last few weeks had been particularly grueling for him as Jackson and Scott took up more and more of his free time – which he hadn’t had a lot of anyway.  He worked full time in the garage restoring old cars, he was doing service at three meetings, and still had to get to the gym to try and stay in the shape he wanted.

Trying to mix spending time with his sponsees while, at the same time, working out had been beyond a disaster.  Jackson had been too focused on his own regime and body to focus on any sort of recovery talk whereas Scott had just complained about being bored – his physique was the product of copious amounts of sports, not hours in the gym.  The one time Derek had joined him for lacrosse training had almost ended with him being decapitated.  All things considered, arguing with Scott when the younger man had a lacrosse stick and heavy rubber ball hadn’t been his best idea, but if it had hit him when it flew past his head, Derek would have been seriously injured.  Scott had said it was an accident, but the smirk he’d tried to hide made his sponsor less sure.

Yawning again, Derek dragged the chairs into position, glaring at his uncle who was still fiddling with the kettles and cups.  He just wished the older man would help more than just do drinks.  Sighing, recognising his grumpiness stemmed from how tired he was, Derek went to get more chairs and recited the serenity prayer.

It was rare that both Scott and Jackson called late into the evenings but the night before had seen Scott until the phone until midnight, needing Derek to walk him through his Step 8 -  _Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all._  Apparently he’d found a different method from Derek’s and wanted to try that, though when he’d sent the format over, Derek had been adamant that it wouldn’t work.  It wasn’t often that he dug his heels in anymore, but the Steps were not something he was willing to mess with.

Then, at two in the morning, Jackson had phoned and Derek simply had to answer.  The trouble was that his sponsee didn’t actually want to discuss his recovery, he just wanted someone to get him through the worst of the night, meaning that long stretches of the phone call were spent in silence.  Annoyingly, he couldn’t even begrudge Jackson the time spent as he’d sent a text in the morning thanking Derek for staying up with him – the first time his young sponsee had shown any gratitude for anything at all.

Still, it didn’t make up for the fact he’d had so few hours sleep.  Grumbling to himself Derek sighed as he put the final chair out and sank into his regular place by the door.  “Here… so you at least have a chance to stay awake through at least the share.”  Peter stood above him, holding out a coffee, strong and black, just how he liked it.

“Dear Lord above, you’re like a sarcastic coffee-angel.” He smiled up at his uncle and took the drink, savouring the rich smell and had just about brought it to his lips when the door went.  “Noooo…” He moaned, though he didn’t really mean it; just being in the meeting room had given him a shot of energy.

“It’s OK, I’ll go… it’ll probably be Isaac anyway.” Peter mumbled as he left.  His sponsee was nearing the end of his time at the rehab center and Derek knew that, while the young man and his uncle emailed daily, but both were worried about his coming back out into the world.  As he was dropped off from Eichan House on their way to another meeting, he was always first to the Young and Sober meeting.

“Hey Derek.” Isaac sounded annoyingly cheery as he bounced in, all youthful energy and exuberance.  “How you doing today?”

“I’m good, how are you?” He pulled himself up from his slouch and looked up, trying for a smile.

“Wow, you look tired!” Isaac exclaimed, smiling. “Like, super, super tired… are you ill?” He asked, tact a thing clearly left at the door.

“No, no… I’ve just had a long week.” He said, putting more energy into his smile. “You seem in a good mood?”

“I am.  I had my social worker visit.  She said she was recommending that after my ninety days are up I go into a half-way house, which is like… brilliant!” He finished, massive grin splitting his face in two.

“That’s great, I’m really happy for you.” Derek responded, honestly pleased for Isaac.

“I get to get _out of there._ ” He span around throwing his arms out and stumbling slightly into Peter, who guided him into a chair.  “Oh, sorry.” Isaac smiled at the two men.  “I’m just so done with rehab and I get to come and go from the halfway house when I like, so long as I’m back by ten, I mean.  But I can start living…” He finished with a sigh, looking almost delirious.

“So what do you want to do then Isaac? School? Job? What?” Derek asked and the younger man just blinked at him.

“I don’t know…” He asked, happiness fading into concern.   He worried at his lower lip, eyes darting left to right, then he stared straight at Derek “What do you do?”

“I work with cars, but I’d always tinkered with them… isn’t there something you want to do?” He asked and Isaac shrugged uncomfortably.  He was often pretty free and easy talking about the abuse he’d endured at the hands of his father, but sometimes he clammed up or became panicky; it was difficult to know what would set him off.

“No.  Not really, I just wanted to make my Dad happy… I thought I’d be trapped in that house forever, especially after…” Isaac rubbed at his wrists and Derek knew better than to pry but imagined he’d probably being chained up, or tied, at some point.  Shaking his head at the cruelty of others, especially a parent to a child, he looked at his uncle for support.

“I thought you wanted to go into counseling?” Peter asked, gently laying a hand on Isaac’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah!” His face morphed instantly back to excited. “I do! I’ve got to get back to school for that though so will need to do that… Do you think Stiles and Scott would help me?” He asked and Derek noticed, as ever, the blush that Isaac sported whenever he mentioned Scott.  His crush was obvious to almost everyone.  Almost.

“I’m not sure…” He hedged and once again looked to his uncle.

“I’m sure they’ll talk to you about your schooling Isaac.” Peter said carefully and his sponsee nodded.

“Are they coming tonight?” He asked and Derek shrugged.

“I imagine so, I’ve not heard any different.”

“That’s good. Scott’s sounded down this week.  You want another coffee?” He asked and Derek nodded, not realising that he’d finished his drink.  As Isaac bounded off Peter sat down next to his nephew.

“He’s been emailing Scott everyday too.  Talks about him, like, all the time.” He confided and Derek frowned.

“Poor guy.  He’ll be devastated when his crush isn’t reciprocated…”

“Well.. that’s if it really isn’t reciprocated….” Peter said and Derek looked at him like he was crazy; Scott had never come across as anything but straight.

“Really?”

“Yeah… he’s made plans to take Isaac shopping, to see a movie, to have dinner… if he doesn’t like him like that, that’s a lot of date like activities.  Has he said anything about Isaac to you.”

“No.” Derek admitted and thought back trying to remember if there had been any clue he’d missed.  “In fact… he’s never talked about him… at all…” He frowned, he remembered bringing up Isaac in conversation but Scott always just changed the subject.  “Hmmmmm…” he mused.

“What…?” Peter asked.

“Nothing. Maybe.  They email each other?”

“Every day.” Peter nodded.  “Sometimes more than once a day.”

Derek then dragged himself up to answer the door.  He felt the bizarre mix of bone deep weariness and electric jolt of coffee as he went to the door. Opening it he smiled to Allison, who was doing the share that evening, and the girl with her who he didn’t recognise.  “Hey…” He said to her, extending his hand.

“Hey.” She replied, giving his hand a quick shake.

“Is this your first meeting?” He asked as the girls came in past him. 

“No, I’ve been to a few, sometimes.” She said and looked around, somewhat spacey.  Derek frowned, he’d never seen her and while he didn’t go to every meeting, he certainly did a lot.  Checking again, he was certain he’d have recognised her. She was the same height as Allison but she had waves of curly blonde hair where Derek’s friend had raven black locks, though they were of a similar length. The major difference was that this new girl looked nervy and tired, almost out of it, whereas Allison always seemed to have a laser focus.

“I’m Derek.” He offered and she half looked back to answer.

“Erica.” She said and disappeared into the room, the other girl close behind her.  Derek frowned but let it go. He’d certainly seen stranger people in the rooms and that she arrived with Allison spoke volumes; he trusted her judgement.  He spent the next twenty minutes opening the door to a stream of young people including Jackson and Stiles, who arrived at the same time, though not together.  It was the young man who _wasn’t_ his sponsee who greeted him warmly.

After a warm hug from the younger man, Derek held him back from going through. “Hey… did Scott not come with you?” He asked and Stiles shook his head.

“No, why? Is he not here?”

Derek shook his head. “Have you heard from him today?”

“No… I’m sure he’s fine.” He said, gripping Derek’s arm, though he sounded less certain than the words he spoke. 

“Yeah.” Derek frowned looking at his watch. It was five minutes until the meeting started and while he’d not arranged to meet Scott before the meeting, he was still surprised his sponsee wasn’t there. 

“He’ll be fine.” Stiles said again, heading through to the meeting.

Just before he was about to give up and head through there was a knock on the door and Derek opened it to Scott who barged in, head down.  “Hey, cutting it a bit fine aren’t you?” He said, adopting a light, jokey tone.

“Don’t Derek. I’m not in the mood.” Scott said, not even looking round.  At least his voice was clear and unslurred, Derek thought to himself and followed his sponsee into the meeting.  Peter was at the top table with Allison and as he sat his uncle opened the meeting. 

Derek’s exhaustion made it difficult to focus on the preamble and instead he watched his sponsees.  Bizarrely, he was less worried about Jackson than Scott; a first for him.  Both young men looked thoroughly miserable and were almost mirror images of disaffection.  Shaking his head, at least thankful they were both in the meeting and not out there, not where he couldn’t make sure they were safe.

“Thank you Peter.” Allison said, making Derek attempt to focus once again.  He’d heard Allison share numerous times but even when that was the case, there was always something new, some part of the share which he could identify with.  “And Derek for opening.  I think most of you have heard me share a few times now, some of you more than a few, but I’ll do my best to keep you awake.” She winked at Derek who rolled his eyes.

“I think, well, I know that my story isn’t the most common in AA, but if there’s one thing that’s clear it’s that alcoholism is a great leveler. I may have stopped the train before it got too far down the track but it had left the station?” Derek was used to Allison’s metaphors so nodded along.  “For me, this is a family disease.  My whole family are drinkers and I learned how to open a bottle of wine before I could tie my shoelaces.

“Learning to drink was only part of my dysfunctional family though.  My parents were, well, for want of a better word, criminals.  I didn’t know it at the time but all through my childhood we moved again and again.  I didn’t know why, it was just how it was, but it made me really unsettled.  I never made friends, never set down roots, even got held back a year in school making me feel like a freak.

“Then… my aunt got me into the family business.  I worshipped her.  She was everything I thought I wanted to be – smart, beautiful, you name it.” She stopped and ducked her head, tucking her hair behind her ear.  “She was also an enforcer for my family.  She sat me down when I was sixteen and explained that my grandfather, a man I thought was just a kindly old man, was, in fact very dangerous and very powerful.  She told me that she wanted me to be her protégé.  And… after many drinks… I agreed. 

“How I got through those years without getting a criminal record is beyond me.  When I was nineteen my Dad came to me and told me he was getting out and he wanted me to go with him.  I accepted straight away and we ended up here.  He went legit and started working for a security company and I got a job in an office.  After years of instability and craziness with my aunt, a regular, boring nine-to-five is what I thought I wanted.

“Thing is though… you can’t run from your past and everything I’d ever done was just sitting there in the back of my head and whenever I wasn’t at work, or the gym, or training it was just there.  I managed to control my drinking to the weekends.  Whiteknuckled it throught the week then binged from six on Friday onwards.

“Then I got a promotion and it all just became too much… too hard.” She shook her head and was quiet for a moment. “It wasn’t long after that that I had to start taking Monday’s off, then I called in sick on a Friday too and I was called in for a meeting about my attendance.  It was the jolt I needed to sort my head out.

“I know it doesn’t sound like much, but, for me, it was.  My boss suggested I get help and mentioned that her brother was in AA.  The thought festered and I came.  I think I thought the same as a lot of you… I’m too young, AA’s just for old, sad men, I’m too pretty.” She smiled a small self-deprecating smile with Jackson of all people, “But something in the stories of the people here got me, here.” She tapped her chest.

“And it was like… I don’t know… coming home.  It felt right.  Since then, my life really has become amazing.  I’ve completed my personal training course and work at a gym, which I love and I’ve really started to get good at my archery, like… really good.  I used to do it when I was young but when I was drinking I just didn’t have time to keep up with it.  Now though… I’m winning competitions, I’m teaching, it’s amazing.

“I can honestly say I’ve never been happier and that it is all down to AA.  It gave me back my focus and showed me how to live without alcohol.  It’s through the example of others that I’ve fought through all my dark times, the times when my disease is at it’s strongest.  I know when things go wrong that I need to come to meetings, speak to my sponsor, talk to members and I can get through it.

“And that’s what I’ve done… I’ve come through some dark times and I’m very happy to say that I’m here today, and sober, and I’m genuinely looking forward to the future.  So thanks for listening.” She stopped with a nod and Peter broke up the meeting for a break. 

Derek meant to leap up and corner Scott, but in his lethargy missed him as he bolted out to go to the toilet.  Derek huffed but headed to Jackson instead.  He seemed to be doing a bit better and even talked to Derek about one of the guys he’d spoken to; someone who’d been a drunk-driver and hit someone, just like Jackson had.  Derek knew him, had specifically asked him to talk to Jackson, though he hadn’t let his sponsee know that.  Having an example so close to his own seemed to have humbled Jackson a little and Derek was pleased; so pleased that he didn’t notice when Scott slipped back in and went back to his seat.

Before Derek could head over to his sullen, sad looking sponsee Peter opened the meeting again.  “Thank you everyone, if we could just…” He paused and waited for the members to all head back to their seats. “Great. Thank you Allison, I’m one of those who have heard you many times, just like you’ve heard me, but I like your recovery.  It’s great to see someone apply the program and make the changes in their lives.  Anyway, this is your part of the meeting and if we all share responsibly we’ll all get a chance to talk. I’m sorry I don’t know your name?” He said to the girl who had come with Allison.

“I’m Erica and … I have a problem with alcohol.” Derek greeted her along with everyone else, no one was forced to label themselves as an alcoholic.  “I’m epileptic and alcohol really fucks with my seizures, but it also relaxes me so sometimes it helps too. The doctors advised me to stop drinking and… I’m just finding it really hard… so I’m coming to meetings because I really want to stop.  Oh, right… so I identified with that, the not being able to stop…? So yeah… thanks.” She sighed, like that had taken a supreme effort.

“Thanks Erica, Stiles?” Peter looked to the young man who barely looked up as he nodded.

“Thanks Peter, and thanks Derek for opening and Allison for your share.  I’m Stiles and I’m an alcoholic.” He paused for the response. “I really like listening to you Alli, I like the hope that you send out there and the service you do… I was thinking about the stopping the train thing… I had further to go along the tracks too but I think the thing I need to remember is that I just hadn’t hit there _yet_.  Yet.  Someone told me that stood for You’re Eligible Too.  I might not have been homeless, but that just means I hadn’t been homeless _yet_.  I hadn’t lost my family _yet._ I hadn’t got a criminal record _yet._ The other side of that is remembering that if I picked up a drink, that’s what’s waiting for me.  People who have relapsed have spoken about how it all just starts again from where you left off.  That scares me, which is good.  This is a scary disease.  Anyway… thanks.”

“Thank you Stiles, Scott?”

“I’m Scott and I’m and alcoholic.” He said, voice thick with emotion and Derek’s heart clenched fearing the worst.  “I’m just…” Scott looked away, avoiding all eyes, and his shoulders shook.  “I fucking hate this.” He said eventually.  “I hate feeling like this.  I’ve been sober for four fucking months, why do I still feel like this?” He demanded of the room.  Derek met his eyes and willed strength into his sponsee.  “I was at a meeting this morning, I did the right thing, right? And I still went home and cried for a fucking hour because this is _too fucking hard._ All I want to do is drink, it’s all I think about… and this is all just bullshit.  We sit here and talk and talk but nothing changes, I still think about drink all the fucking time.”  By this he’d slumped back in his chair, head leaning on the back of it, staring at the ceiling as tears streamed out of his eyes.  “I’m doing everything right… I’m at meetings, I’m at more meetings, I’m doing my steps, I’m _trying_ but it’s just too fucking hard… I’m scared about leaving too… like, out there.” He waved a hand. “I know where I can go, I know what I can do… and I don’t want to, but…” He stopped and shook his head.  “I don’t know if I can do this…” He finished, lamely and waved a hand at Peter.

“Thank you Scott.” He said before moving straight on, no doubt wanting to say something but not.  “Isaac?” He asked his sponsee, who look up, tears in his eyes as he looked back to Scott.

“Pass.” He said through his tears and Scott looked at him sternly but Isaac just shook his head.

“Thank you Isaac. Jo?” Peter moved on and Derek zoned out.  He was staring intently at Scott, trying to make the other boy look his way.  He cursed himself for an idiot, Scott must have been hiding something last night and Derek had been too tired to notice.  _Why didn’t I ring him back this morning?_ He fumed, knowing the answer – he’d been too tired. He shook his head.  He was failing his sponsees and he knew it, but didn’t know what to do. 

Scott resolutely avoided his gaze no doubt knowing that his sponsor would want to try and communicate with him somehow.  The meeting continued and Derek felt his guilt grow and grow as time went on.  Eventually it came to him and he considered his words.  “Hi I’m Derek and I’m an alcoholic,” he paused again.  “This is… alcoholism is such a bastard of a disease.  We all sit here and we all have our troubles and it feels like all of the world out there,” he pointed at the wall, “is too big and too scary and alone it is.  For us? Alone it is. Allison said it, by being with other alcoholics, by working the program even the darkest times are manageable.  Together.  And that’s what this is, it’s a fellowship, a fellowship of men and women who come together to support each other.  And I’m proud to be part of that.” He finished and Peter nodded at him.

“Thank you Derek.  Now, we’ll close the meeting with the twelfth tradition and the serenity prayer.  Please join in using the word God as you do or do not understand it…” He waited for everyone to join hands, “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things we can and the wisdom to work it.” As soon as it finished, Stiles grabbed Scott and dragged him back to his chair, sharing a look and a nod with Derek.

Jackson seemed to hover for a moment, longer than usual as if he was thinking about going over before he gave a slight shake and turned to go. Derek caught him before he went and made sure he was OK, which he said he was.  Shaking his head at the younger man’s back as he stalked away, Derek turned back to where Scott and Stiles were, trying to decided whether he should go over.  Peter seemed to be trying to steer Isaac away and it was clear the younger man wanted desperately to go to Scott – clearly his sponsor, rightly, disagreed and was gently but firmly leading him out of the room.

Stiles waved Allison over, swapped places with her and moved to stand beside Derek.  “Hey, so… it’s babysitting time, have you done that?” Stiles asked and he nodded.  It was when a member was basically not left alone, at all, until they’d come out of whatever funk they’d been in.  The last time Derek had done it was for a member who’s daughter had died.  He’d been babysat for almost a month but he’d not picked up a drink.  Most of the time the other person had just sat there, with him but not, not talking, just a presence. 

“Yeah, can you take tonight? I don’t think he’ll listen to me…” Derek said, truthfully. 

“Of course. I’ll go to his, or he can come to mine, I’m going to call his Mom, let her know.”  He added, taking out his phone.

“OK. I can be at wherever you end up at about eight tomorrow morning?” He said, knowing he could go in later to the garage – his boss didn’t mind him working into the night, so long as the work got done.  “I’d need to be away in the afternoon.”

“OK, I’ll talk to Dad, Allison will help, what about Peter?” Derek nodded, “OK, and Garrett and Braedon… He’ll be fine.” Stiles said, resolute.

“OK.” Derek said and walked over to his sponsee as Stiles went outside to call.  Allison was sitting with Scott, not saying anything, just holding his hand.  “Hey.” Derek said and the younger man nodded, not replying.  “Stiles said you’re going to stay with him tonight? I’ll be round in the morning, we can spend the day relaxing, or watching movies, or going to meetings, whatever you want…” Derek said, carefully placing a hand on Scott’s shoulder.

“So long as I don’t drink, right?” Scott said bitterly. “Because that’s all you really care about.  My _recovery._ ”

“That’s not true Scott, I care about you.” Derek said, trying his best to sound as sincere as he could – he did care about the boy.  Sure, he found him annoying at times, and his personality… grated.  But he genuinely cared for him, for Jackson, Isaac, even Stiles, though that was slightly different.

“Whatever.” Scott muttered shaking his head. 

“I’m free after five tomorrow?” Allison said and Derek nodded.

“Thanks, I’ll be with him until about two, I think Stiles’ is getting his Dad or Braedon to help too.” Derek said and Scott huffed.

“I am here you know.” He grumbled.

“I know, and so are we. For however long you need us.” Derek said and, despite being as tired as he was, he meant it.  This was more important.

 

 

Derek stretched out his back feeling a welcoming pop and sighed into it.  Gingerly, he took out his phone and checked his messages.  He’d spoken to Scott at lunchtime and he’d seemed fine.  After his meltdown at the Young and Sober meeting he’d taken a couple of days of babysitting but had eventually come out from under his cloud.  It hadn’t been anything specific, he’d just come to the realisation that he’d never be able to drink again and the enormity of the future had stretched out before him, too too difficult. 

Which is why alcoholics took it one day at a time. 

With a happy sigh he saw no missed calls, no messages and he popped his phone away before cleaning and stowing his tools away.  He was fastidious, certainly more so than most of the guys in the garage and it was why the boss trusted him.  Filling in the log book and writing a note he locked up and considered whether he had time to hit the gym before meeting Jackson for dinner.  He’d agreed to it a couple of days before, agreeing to it knowing that the younger man wouldn’t last longer than a couple of hours before making excuses and he could still see Scott for their evening meet up. 

They were spending even more time together as Scott started to come to terms with what living with the disease meant.  Derek knew that Stiles, and Tom and Allison were all talking to his sponsee too and he was grateful, but at the same time, after their rocky start, Scott was finally listening to him more and more.  Spending more time with Scott and Jackson talking about starting his steps meant that Derek had even less time than he’d had before. Bizarrely, going to work was the most relaxing part of Derek’s day now… or it was when his phone wasn’t constantly going.  His workmates even started ribbing him about the women he had pulling his strings.  Derek hadn’t felt like correcting them.

Before he could make a decision, his phone rang and Derek allowed himself to groan before he answered, though seeing Stiles’ name, he answered happier than he would have had for anyone else. “Hey Stiles, how are you?”

“Hey…” There was something in the way he said that that made Derek’s heart sink.

“What’s happened?”

“Nothing! Nothing really… I just really need to see you, can you come round?” He asked and Derek looked at his watch. It would mean not being able to shower, but he could fit coffee with Stiles in before dinner.

“Yes.” He said and covered his eyes, shaking his head.

“Great – you know the address right?” He asked and Derek recited it, having memorized it from the one time he’d been before as part of a group dinner with Scott and his Mom.  Stiles had hung up before he told him what the problem was, so, driving his Camero into the unknown he headed for Stiles’ house.

When he got there, he wiped his hands on his overalls and sighed.  Exhaustion had struck hard when he’d been driving and he was looking forward to Stiles’ specialty coffee as much as he was looking forward to seeing the man himself.  When the door opened Derek realised that was a complete lie.  Stiles looked incredible, even barefoot in jeans and a T-shirt he looked incredible.  Derek was surprised he wasn’t drooling.

“Hey, thanks… come in.” Stiles said. “Were you at work?” he asked, taking in the overalls and oil-marked hands.

“Yeah, literally just finished.” Derek said and stifled a yawn, turning away so Stiles wouldn’t see.

“OK, come through.” He led Derek to the kitchen. “Right… sit down.” Derek tried not to worry at those words, but slowly, carefully, sat at the table, ensuring he didn’t touch anything less it get filthy. “Scott is with Allison and my Dad at his Mom’s.  Jackson and Danny are with Peter and Isaac.  They’ve all agreed that you need a night off so.  No one is going to call you. All night.  You aren’t meeting Jackson and you aren’t meeting Scott and they are safe with friends and members.  A night off.” Stiles said with a smile and Derek took a few moments to process what had just been said and when it all finally sank in he felt like crying with relief.

“Why?” He asked in the end.

“Because Peter thought you were burning out… and Scott was feeling guilty that he was taking up so much of your time and Jackson just said you were more of a dick than usual.” Stiles smiled as Derek huffed at him.  “So… you have a night off.  I’ve a stack of DVDs, a Netflix account or… if you’d prefer there’s a bath upstairs and plenty of books and magazines.  Or I could cook something? But if you don’t feel like food poisoning I could order some pizza or Chinese?” He stopped and shrugged his shoulders leaving the choice up to Derek. “I don’t have to stay either… if you want to be alone, that’s fine too.”

“Do you have a shower?” He asked and Stiles nodded.  “Right… I’m having the longest shower ever and then… I don’t know…” He shook his head, bemused.  It was further from anything he could have imagined when he got the call.  Still, he couldn’t admit it wasn’t welcome. 

Stiles showed him upstairs to the bathroom where he explained, quite unnecessarily, how the shower worked and Derek spent at least half an hour under the steady stream of hot water.  The more he worked body wash over his body, massaging his skin as he went, the more he came to realise that not only did he have a night off, but essentially he had a night with the guy he had a crush on.  Unfortunately, that thought came just before the realization that he had no change of clothes, just the filthy overalls carefully folded on the floor of the bathroom.

Rather than get back into them, after he dried himself off, he wrapped the soft, fluffy towel around his waist and padded back downstairs.  “Stiles?” He called, not sure where the other guy was.  When he heard the reply from the kitchen he followed the voice. “Do you think you or your Dad have a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that will fit, my overalls are pretty filthy?” By the time he’d finished he was standing in the doorway, both hands holding his towel, making sure it didn’t fall.

Stiles was gaping.  His eyes seemed to be bulging and he shook his head as if clearing his thoughts before dragging his eyes up to meet Derek’s. “Sorry… what?” He asked, a blush clearly creeping up his face.

“Do you guys have anything I can borrow, my work clothes are filthy?” He asked, trying not to grin.  In all the focus he was giving his sponsee’s Derek had, as ever, pushed down his own feelings and issues, ignoring the crush he had on Stiles.  Now that he had an entire night ahead of him spent with the man, he found that those feelings were still fully intact and, he hoped from the reaction he’d got in when dressed in a towel, reciprocated.

“Sure.” Stiles’ voice broke and he coughed, “Sure.” He tried again, sounding strained but at least like himself.  He dashed into a sideroom and returned with grey sweats and a black t-shirt.  Derek thanked him and went back up to the bathroom to get dressed.  They were both a little short but were clean and fresh and serviceable.

When he got back downstairs Stiles had clearly got a hold of himself and was looking a lot less beetroot as he had previously.  “Thanks.” Derek said and Stiles tried to wave to it away.

“No problem, they’re Dad’s but he won’t mind.”

“No. Not just for the clothes, for tonight, for all of it.”

Stiles smiled. “It’s my pleasure.  If anyone was in need of a night off it was you.”

“Well… I’m glad I get to spend it with you.” Derek dared to say and was somewhat heartened from the shy smile Stiles gave.

“Good. I’m glad you’re glad. So… what’s the plan…?” He asked.

“Pizza? A movie… I’ll probably fall asleep somewhere in the middle though…” Derek admitted, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck which rode his shirt up enough that a strip of skin must have shown as Stiles’ gaze flickered to Derek’s waistline.

“Huh…?” He asked, blushing again.

Grinning, Derek put his arm down. “I said pizza and a movie would be good but I might fall asleep.”

“That’s OK, we’ve a guest room if you want to crash over.” Derek just nodded, that was too far in the future for Derek to think about.

“OK, we’ll see.  Let’s just get a pizza, pepperoni? You OK for me to pick a film?” He asked and Stiles nodded directing him through to the living room where a DVD stack was.

Derek selected a film he’d not seen but liked the look of and was pleased when Stiles decreed it a ‘good call’ before flopping down onto the couch next to Derek.  They started to chat rather than put the film on though and before he knew it, the pizza had arrived.  Neither he or Stiles mentioned the film again though as they worked their way through the food, laughing and joking with each other.  They stayed away from talk of recovery, or AA, or sponsees and just chatted.

At one point, when both their arms were resting along the back of the sofa, Derek’s fingers started trailing light patterns on the back of Stiles’ hand.  Conversation paused and Derek quietly asked, “Is this OK?”  Stiles had just nodded and they’d carried on talking.

Sometime after midnight Derek decided he was too tired to drive home and he stayed over.  The guest room, however, wasn’t mentioned again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading - more than half way!
> 
> This *is* a very weird AU isn't it... shrugs... oh well...


	6. Isaac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac's out of Eichan House and has his first share.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK... SO... This one is MESSED up people! Like seriously dark and twisted and deeply upsetting for all kinds of abuse and crazy things happening. It could be massively triggery so... yeah... be warned.
> 
> BTW things like this happen. It's adapted from a share in a meeting I heard... :-(

Derek grinned at his uncle who was practically bursting with pride as Isaac walked into the meeting.  The young man had walked to the meeting that evening; walked from his new room in the halfway house that the Eichan Rehab centre had sent him to.  He still looked flighty and nervous, but he was incredibly more focused than he had been.

“Evening guys!” He grinned wide at both Hales as he came into the meeting.

“Isaac.” Derek said, trying not to shake his head at the younger man’s enthusiasm.

“Are you all set?” Peter asked and Isaac nodded walking almost reverentially to the top table where he slowly lowered himself into the seat of the sharer.  He looked so happy and complete that Derek couldn’t help but feel his heart swell for the young man.

“You are chairing, right?” Isaac asked his sponsor who nodded and sat next to him, leaning in to whisper some last advice.   Derek didn’t have to wait long for the door to start knocking and members arrive.  Scott arrived next, looking tired but determined and, after greeting Derek, made a bee-line for Isaac, perching on the side of the top table and chatting happily with the other boy.

Watching from the doorway, Derek noticed all the smiles, blushes and little touches and remembered again what had happened when he’d brought up Isaac to his sponsee.  Essentially, once he was sure he was more secure in his recovery and over his funk, Derek had asked Scott about the daily emails between him and Isaac.

Scott had looked guilty and not met his sponsor’s eyes. “He’s lonely.” Was the excuse he’d come up with.

“Yeah… that’s fine… but… you know he has feelings for you, right?” Derek had asked and Scott had blushed.

“You don’t know that.”

“Scott…” Derek had tried not to sound exasperated, but failed spectacularly.

“You don’t! He’s not said anything…” Scott had grumped.

“Scott.” Derek had said a bit more forcefully.  “He’s besotted with you.  It’s as clear as the nose on your face.”

“Whatever.  I’m not doing anything wrong.  There’s nothing for him to do at Eichan House so it makes sense for me to email, right? And we get on… what’s so wrong about that?”

Derek had looked at his sponsee closely. “Do you have feelings for him?” He’d asked and Scott had just glared.

“Even if I did, you’d tell me we couldn’t date anyway, so what’s the point…?”

“Scott, you _can’t_ date Isaac.  You’re both in early sobriety, neither of you have worked the steps properly…” Derek had stopped talking under the heavy glare of his sponsee. Remembering what Stiles had told him, he tried a different take.  “Just, think about it. Relationships are hard enough when _one_ of you is in recovery.”  He snapped his jaw shut with an audible click.

“I _know_.” Scott had muttered and changed the subject. 

Looking at the pair of them in the meeting though, Derek doubted his sponsee had listened.  While he was capable of acknowledging that Stiles had been right about trusting Scott more, in this, he was worried what the younger man would do. Derek was right to be worried – he’d seen relationships in the rooms destroy recoveries.  A knock pulled him away from his vigil. He let in a variety of people, mostly regulars though some who Derek only vaguely knew.  Eventually, just before the meeting started he opened the door to the one guy he was waiting for.

Stiles beamed at him when he answered the door. “Hey, how you doing?”

He couldn’t help but smile back.  “Good, I’m good.” Thinking back to his sponsee in the meeting, Derek nodded back towards the kitchen and tried to work out exactly what he wanted to say in the few steps he had as Stiles followed him.  This was the first time they’d seen each other since Derek’s ‘night off’; they’d texted and spoken on the phone a couple of times, but not actually met up.

Remembering that night always made him smile.  After the _long_ shower and pizza he’d had a lot more energy than he was expecting and he and Stiles had talked long into the night.  It had been, well, wonderful.  Derek hadn’t had that time, or connection, with someone ever in recovery and while it excited him, he was worried too. Worried that a relationship in the rooms was a bad idea and worried that he would come off as hypocritical if he told Scott to stay away from Isaac while he, himself, couldn’t stay away from Stiles.

Derek leant back against the kitchen and looked at the young man facing him.  Stiles looked, as ever, effortlessly handsome and fidgety to the point of flight.  “Hey.” He said finally.

“Yep, we’ve done that bit.” Stiles smiled but turned serious as he took in Derek’s concerned expression.

“Look, I’ve not really thought about this, but… I’m just putting it out there.”  He paused as Stiles folded his arms and nodded once, clearly trying not to be concerned.  “I like you.”

Stiles waited a few seconds before he responded, clearly expecting more.  “I like you too, Der.  I think that was kind of clear when I kissed you on the couch.  And then you kissed me in my bedroom doorway, and on my bed… remember?” Stiles added the last with a cheeky smile which Derek couldn’t help but return.  He remembered when Stiles had leant in and kissed him, how nervous he’d been, though he couldn’t say why.  He remembered how sweet and chaste it had been.  He remembered when they’d decided to call it a night and Stiles had yawned and stretched making it impossible for Derek _not_ to kiss him.  He remembered curling up next to Stiles in bed, both too tired to try and figure out what was going on between them, but neither wanting to let the other go.  He remembered stealing that last kiss just before Stiles had fallen asleep.

“I remember.” He could feel the blush spread across his cheeks. “But…” Stiles sighed and tilted his head, waiting for whatever Derek was about to say.  “I’m not sure me and you are the best idea.  We’re both in recovery.  And… I know… we’re both through the steps and in some ways your sobriety is maybe stronger than mine-“ Stiles snorted, letting Derek know what he thought of that. “But… I’m in the process of warning Scott away from Isaac, I don’t want to be a hypocrite?”

Stiles looked at him carefully for a few moments. “No.” He said, slowly.

“No?” Derek asked, surprised.

“No. That’s not the reason.” Stiles waved a hand and shifted so he was leaning against the doorframe, though still eying Derek side-on.  “I mean, sure, that’s the reason you’re giving, but that’s not the real reason you’re scared. Try again…” He said, rolling his hand, encouraging Derek on who just glared and stayed silent.  He couldn’t believe Stiles was behaving in such a manner.

“This is pointless…” He muttered and made to go but the young man just placed his hand flat against Derek’s chest, fingers splayed.

“Oh no, glarey… you dragged me over here, you aren’t going anywhere until you are honest.”  Stiles pushed him back and folded his arms again.

“But…” Derek huffed and stayed quiet, frowning and running through arguments in his head which might get him out.

“Derek?” Peter appeared at the door, looking for his nephew as the meeting was no doubt due to begin. He opened his mouth to respond but Stiles got there first.

“He just needs a minute Peter, we’ll be in soon, I’m sure.” Derek’s uncle nodded without even looking at him and disappeared back into the room.

“The meetings starting…” Derek said, extending his hand to the door Peter had just closed.

“So you better start talking.” Stiles said, completely resolute.

“And say what…?” He snapped, annoyed. “I _don’t_ think it’s a good idea.  If something goes wrong it could be really bad for both of us, and what I said about Scott? You know what he’s like, he’d use our relationship as a reason to date Isaac, you know he would! And… it’s just not a good idea…” He repeated.

“So… you like me and I like you but we shouldn’t explore it because of a hypothetical future, which might never happen, in which we get hurt and it effects our recovery _and_ you’re worried about what your sponsee, my friend, might say?” Stiles clarified and Derek nodded, not liking it set out like that, but accepting it as true.

“Well… we’re zeroing in on it, but we’re not there yet…?” Stiles said.

“What?!” Derek snapped again, growing more annoyed by the second.

“I can tell you, though, really, you of all people should be able to see this…”

“Oh no, by all means, enlighten me.” His sarcasm was evident and Stiles just raised an eyebrow before continuing.

“You’re scared.  You’re scared of entering into a relationship.  So you’re trying to explain it away and you’re probably more angry with yourself than me for doing so, but… this fear? It’s your disease.  Your alcoholism _wants_ you to be alone so that it can control you, it doesn’t want the chance of happiness.  Let me ask you this, in any thoughts of the future and us, did you ever, once, picture us on dates, laughing or being happy? Or did you focus on the break up and how one or both of us might drink?” Derek shrugged, uncomfortable at how accurately Stiles was describing his thoughts.  “Honestly Der, come on… we take it one day at a time for a reason.  No one knows what the future holds, but… I want to be happy and I think there’s a chance we could be happy together.” He reached out and took Derek’s hand in his.

“But…” Derek started.

“No, no buts.  Just… look, we can go slow, we can do this however you want, but I’m not giving up before we start because you’re scared of something new, OK?  I’m in this if you are.”

“Looks like I don’t have choice.” He grumped and Stiles laughed.

“Of course you do, Der, but… let’s talk about this when you’ve got a slightly clearer head.  Maybe you should try and work out why your brain went in that direction? Think about it… OK?”

Derek sighed.  “All right.  Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yes? Coffee at ten?” Stiles ducked down, tilting his head so he could look up into Derek’s downcast eyes.  “Derek?”

“Yeah, coffee.” He said and blinked as Stiles darted up and kissed him, once, but for a few seconds.  It was careful and kind and exactly what Derek needed.  It made him realise that Stiles meant what he said and he _was_ invested in this relationship too. He had to admit that the younger man was right, he had been focusing of the negative and letting his disease do his thinking.  Whenever it could, Derek’s alcoholism would show him all the ways he could fail and convince him he’d drink on those failures.  It was something he was normally very good at noticing and dealing with, but this was his first relationship in recovery, really, and apparently he wasn’t quite as good at protecting himself.  “Sorry.” He muttered.

“Don’t be sorry, just… be honest and talk to me, OK?” Stiles asked and he nodded.  Stepping out of the small kitchen, Stiles put some space between them and entered the meeting, not looking back at Derek as he went in.  Isaac looked up at them and smiled as they took their seats, clearly they’d missed the preamble but, checking the clock, it didn’t look like they’d missed much of the share.

“Hey guys.” Isaac said and smiled at them both.  “I was just saying how nervous I am… I’m been looking forward to this, this share, getting out of rehab for weeks and now here I am and I don’t know what to say.” He smiled, beamed really and focused on Scott who was sitting exactly straight ahead of him.

“Well… first of all, thank you to everyone who’s done service, and thanks to everyone who’s been here, any week or this week.  It’s meant a lot to me to have a group of young people who are all going through what I am… well… not exactly like I am, none of you got to try the wonder of Eichan House Sunday dinners.  I’m kidding, they were awful.” Isaac faked a shudder at the memory. “But it’s been the thing I looked forward to, coming here every week, especially after I got my sponsor and a friend who emailed me every day.  That contact helped a lot.  So thank you.” While he was talking about both Peter and Scott, it was to the younger man that he address his gratitude.

“So.   I’m Isaac and I’m and alcoholic.”

“Hi Isaac.” The room responded, though Derek’s attention was captured by Allison, who he’d not really noticed when she arrived with Erica and a member Derek didn’t know; she looked tired, withdrawn. 

“I don’t really have a lot of recovery yet, not really.  I’m just out of a rehab centre, ninety five days in-“ He was interrupted by a chorus of “Well done”s, which he accepted with a nod.  “Thanks, but almost all of them were in rehab so it’s not like… the same?” Derek desperately wanted to tell him it was but resolved to just talk to him at the break. “But I’ll tell you my story and hopefully it will help, I don’t know… someone….”

He squirmed in his chair and looked down at the desk. “I’ve talked a bit about my home life and the staff at Eichan told me the more I could talk about it, the less hold it would have over me so I try and talk about when I can.  For a while it was good, me, Mom, Dad and my brother Camden.  Now it’s just me.  Mom died first, cancer, which was hard.  I was only about twelve when she died and then, a year later, my brother, in Afghanistan. 

“That left me and Dad.  He… changed.  He wasn’t the same person he’d been, he got violent.  Not much at first, but then, after he caught me and my friend Matt kissing in my room… well… that was it.  He took me out of school.  I went to school round here, but he took me out to ‘home school’ me.  Because he’d been a teacher in the past we had like one visit from the education officer and that was that.

“So, my education stopped when I was about fourteen I guess.  That was the last time I had friends, or a purpose other than cooking and cleaning for my Dad.  He used to still make me sit tests though and got more and more angry when I couldn’t pass them.  Every now and again he’d let me have a text book which I just devoured, you know? But mainly it was ‘keep Dad happy’. 

“When I turned sixteen that meant me helping him run the graveyard.  That’s where we lived and worked.  I think I was scared at first… all those dead bodies? But you get used to it…” He said with a shrug though he saw a couple of members shudder. “One Saturday he told me it was my birthday, I’d not really kept track of dates or time, but that made me seventeen and he told me he’d bought me a present. 

“Now… whenever he said stuff like that, I‘d get worried… it was never good.  This time it was a bottle of whiskey.  He told me I was an adult and had to do adult things, and real men drank.  That was one of his big problems with me, that I wasn’t a real man? I looked a lot like my Mom which I think bothered him and then, to him, gay guys aren’t real men, so… this was a test.  Anyway… I drank everything he gave me.  He kept warning me not to be sick or I’d have to…” Isaac’s eyes glazed over for a second and he shook himself. “Anyway, I wasn’t to be sick. And I wasn’t.  Turns out… somehow, from somewhere, I’ve the constitution of a concrete elephant.”

Isaac beamed at the room. “That’s what he said to me, he actually sounded proud.” Derek frowned at how happy the boy seemed at the praise from his abuser. “Then he asked if I like the whiskey. I had to think fast… I said no, that it hurt my throat and stomach and he laughed.  From then on, he kept the house well stocked, made me drink all the time.  See he thought I hated it but I _loved_ it.  It made everything smaller and easier to deal with.  There were even times that we drank together, like the two of us, Father and son.  I could pretend that he didn’t beat me, or…” This time Isaac took longer to come back to himself.

“Anyway.  I started sneaking drinks when he was forcing me and hiding bottles.  I ended up being able to stay drunk enough not to really remember anything.  I don’t even know how long we were like that.  I do remember once I came out of blackout and I was chained up.  I’d been chained up in the basement on this chain that ran just enough to get into the kitchen.” He was rubbing at his wrists and Derek could only imagine how he was feeling, reliving his story.  A small, cynical, part of him was hoping that Isaac would start talking about recovery; as much as he could appreciate that the young man might be finding talking about his past cathartic, Derek, like everyone else, was there for their alcoholism.

“It made it harder to steal drinks but I managed.  One night though, Dad just brought in these four boxes of whiskey.  Sat them down on the table and started drinking.  He didn’t tell me that I could, but I did… I don’t think he noticed.” Isaac’s voice went quieter but Derek could still hear him.  “Some point after the sun set he pulled out a gun.  Told me he had cancer.” Isaac frowned, struggled for the next words. “He didn’t want to go like Mom did.  Then he pointed the gun at me.” Derek felt his blood run cold; he was staring at Isaac, hard, shocked.  “Told me that I wasn’t capable of living on my own and he’d be doing me a favour if he killed me – That he was going to do it or I could drink myself to death, that’s what the whiskey was for.” Isaac’s gaze was vacant and far away.

“I honestly thought I was going to die that night.” The room went silent, nobody seemed able to breathe. “I didn’t, obviously.” Isaac seemed to snap back for a second and looked everyone in the eye; frowned like they were the ones acting strange, then he looked up above their heads at the back wall.  “He did though.  Shot himself in front of me.”  Derek gaped.  Flicking a look at Peter he realised that his uncle hadn’t ever heard this part of his sponsee’s story either.  Scott had a hand covering his mouth and Erica was looking at Isaac through tears in her eyes.  While they were the most obvious, everyone was affected by Isaac’s story.

“He put the gun in his mouth and pulled.  It knocked him back and away from me.  It’s all a bit hazy after that.  I think I went back to the basement, I know I woke up down there.  I had taken one of the boxes of bottles down and they were all empty.  Going back upstairs was hard, but I needed more alcohol you know?” Though he asked the question, no one answered. “I tried not to look at him, but… well… I did.  That’s what gets me every time. The image of my Dad in this big pool of blood.  Anyway…  I was somewhere through that box of whiskey when the police came. 

“Someone must have noticed he was missing at work.  Or maybe it was the smell. I don’t know, I don’t even know who called the police but they did.  I was put in a home but kept sneaking out to steal alcohol.  The fourth or fifth time it happened I got put into Eichan.  It was the best thing for me really.  Therapy at my fingertips, enforced detox and…” Isaac shrugged. “Time, I guess.

“That’s what I needed most I think… time and space to get away from what happened to me and all the drinking I was doing.  I’m out now though and in the ‘real world’ and, well, I’m hopeful, you know? I mean… I never drank except in my house and the state are selling it for me so I don’t have to go back there.  Plus the only people I know are all AA members so it’s not like I’ll be hanging out with drinkers… Yeah.  A life spent sober is something I think I can do, I at least want to try.  So… yeah.  Thanks for listening.”  Isaac stopped and Derek blinked in shock. 

He almost felt like he had whiplash.  Isaac’s story was so different from so many other shares that he didn’t know how to process it.  It seemed from the looks being passed around the room that most people felt the same way. Peter cleared his throat from the top table. “Er, thank you Isaac. We’ll take a break, around ten minutes… maybe a bit longer today.” He nodded and people stood in silence and started shuffling to the teas and coffee.  Derek watched Peter start a conversation with Isaac so left them to it, instead he turned his attention to his sponsee.

“Scott. Are you OK?” He asked, trying to get a read on the younger man’s expression.

“Christ Derek…” He breathed, not taking his eyes off Isaac. “How can he just… I would be a mess.”

“I know.  I know.” Derek nodded, watching Isaac too. 

“I’m not going to abandon him now you know.”

“I’m not saying you should Scott… just… look at him? Don’t you think he needs a friend more than a boyfriend right now?” He said, trying a different tack.

“Maybe…” Scott hedged.  They both greated Stiles who walked over and blew out a sigh.

“Hard.” He said eloquently.

“Yeah,” Derek agreed. “But he was right too… the only people he knows are AA members… if he works hard, he could do it.” He spoke with enough conviction that the two younger men nodded.  Beneath it all though, Derek doubted.  He doubted that someone who’d been through so much, so young could overcome it in just three months.  No matter what Isaac still had a long way to go.  Throwing up a prayer of thanks that Peter could focus solely on the troubled youth, he started chatting with the Scott and Stiles.

Realising that the break was getting on, Derek excused himself to talk to his other sponsee who was with to Erica and the young man Derek didn’t know, he introduced himself and was met with a firm handshake.

“Boyd.” Was all he said.

“Are you new in town? Or visiting?” He asked and Boyd shook his head.

“No.  I’ve always lived here but not been in the rooms for a while.  Got sober about five years back, just having a rough patch.” He shrugged and Derek nodded.  It was relatively common for people to get a couple of years under their belts, work the steps and then drop their meetings.  Derek hadn’t as he’d always needed that constant reminder and identification, but every now and again someone would turn up to meets with a few years recovery and stay until they left again. 

“Maybe you could do the share one week then?” He asked and the other man just shrugged.

“Hey Derek, can I talk to you a second?” Jackson said and he nodded, allowing himself to be led away.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Nothing, I was just letting you know that I’m heading to Colorado for the weekend with my family – skiing, but I don’t get reception so I’ll not be able to talk to you for a few days?” The other boy looked up at him nervously but Derek just smiled.

“That’s OK, you’re with your Mum and Dad?” Jackson nodded; his father had been the one to stipulate the attendance at AA in the probation deal so he knew his sponsee would be with people who wouldn’t let him drink. “Thanks for letting me know.” He said and Jackson nodded before running his hand through his hair.

“Man that was intense huh?”

“Yeah… you OK?” He asked and the younger man nodded.

“Yeah, fine.  Poor bastard though.” He said, nodding at the top table where Scott was crouched at Isaac’s side, talking to him.

“Mmmm.” Derek said, non-committal before heading back to his seat as Peter called everyone back in to the meeting.

“OK thanks everybody. Well… Thank you Isaac for that deeply personal share.  It’s been a pleasure getting to know you and I’m looking forward to seeing how you progress, I’m sure that with all the support you’ll get from everyone in all the meetings you’ll do you’ll be fine.  Right, your part of the meeting… Stiles?”

“Thanks Peter.  I’m Stiles and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi Stiles.”

“Thank you Derek for opening the door and Isaac for your share.  Man… First off, I’m so happy you’re happy to be out of Eichan, I know it was a big step for you and I’ll always be here to help and listen if you want it.  That’s the good thing about AA – you can always phone members and we’ll help each other through hard times, and… Isaac…? You’ve had more than most man…

“Identification…” Stiles rubbed at the back of his neck and Derek empathized – how do you respond to that share? “Look… We both used alcohol to try and remove ourselves from the world around us and we’ve both turned a corner and recognised that that wasn’t for us anymore.  The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking right? Well… we have that desire and I’m here for you… Thanks.” He nodded and Peter moved the meeting on.

The next few people did as Stiles had – offered advice and support and talked around identification.  Sometimes meetings just went that way – someone shared a story that was so out there and beyond anything which anyone had experienced that all you could do was offer support. Derek didn’t begrudge Isaac this time, he seemed to be genuinely moved by what people were staying.

“Thank you Braeden. Jackson?”

He just shook his head. “Pass.”  Derek tried not to be disappointed in his sponsee; he _did_ respond sometimes, but not when faced with anything too painful.  Derek was used to Jackson by now and had resigned himself to letting the younger man go at his own pace.

“Thank you, keep coming back.” Peter said, also clearly unsurprised. “Erica?”

“Thank you Peter and thank you Isaac, I can’t believe how strong you are to sit there and share all that… I look at my life and why I’m here and I just…” She shrugged and waved a hand.  “I know we don’t each other that well but, I think you’re incredible.” She nodded and looked to her left.

“Thank you Erica, I’m sorry I don’t know your name…”

“Thanks, I’m Boyd and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi Boyd.”

“Thanks.” He sat back, extended his legs, crossed at the ankles and tilted his head, watching Isaac who shifted uncomfortably.  “I…” He started and then stopped shaking his head.  “My Higher Power has a really twisted sense of humour.” He muttered but loud enough for everyone to hear.  “I’ve been out of the rooms for a few years, living sober but not doing meetings.  I thought I was done.  Then…” He shifted so he shuffled forward, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring intently at Isaac.  “My Dad died.  Killed himself. Last week.” Isaac mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’ but Boyd waved it away.  “No, I’m not… He was a bad guy.  Not good for any of us but what you said… about your Dad making you drink? How only real men drank? That was mine.  I was twelve when he first made me down a beer.  He got me drunk every weekend for a while after that while we watched the football.  I didn’t want to, but he was… insistent… before long I was drinking without him.  I’ve never heard what we went through in the rooms before… but I think I needed to.  I didn’t realise how long I’ve been carrying around how much that hurt me. 

“Like… I’ve been trying to live sober, be a man and live up to what my Dad told me and it wasn’t working.  Then there you are…” He waved a hand at Isaac who ducked his head.  “You’re like a walking example of how wrong our Dads were.  Real men? I don’t think either of our Fathers were real men… Real men work hard, live well, support their friends and family they don’t force, or hit, or… I can’t believe that on my first meeting back I hear that… My Higher Power…” Boyd shook his head.  “I’d like to talk to you more after the meeting if that’s cool…?” He asked Isaac who nodded quickly, eyes wide in surprise. “Thanks.”

“Thank you Boyd. Allison?”

The woman he turned to was silent for a while then spoke quietly, without looking up. “I relapsed.” Derek did his best not to gasp.  While he and Allison were best friends, they were friendly and he’d never have expected that from her.  “Last Saturday.  I was out with friends and everything was brilliant.  I’d had a great day and I just thought… maybe I could just have a glass of wine… so I did.” Derek once again held back his instinct, this time to shake his head.  “That was me until Monday night… I’d called in sick on Monday and planned to do it on the Tuesday too, but… a friend from the rooms called and I picked up the phone.  Thank God I did.” Allison shook her head.  “I still had to call in sick on Tuesday but I spent the day sorting my house out and getting rid of all the bottles, because, guys, there were loads!

“I’ve _heard_ people who have relapsed… I know what they say – that it’s all out there waiting for you but I don’t think I ever really believed them? Well… they’re right.  It was like I’d never been here… never made progress…” She stopped to fight back tears.  “I’m sorry.  I just feel like a failure.”

“You’re not.” Derek whispered along with a few others. While Allison might have relapsed and picked up a drink, she’d come back into the rooms and was sharing.  That was the opposite of failure.

“Thanks, but… I had _time_.  I’d done… well… I guess now I’ve done two days.  Today will make three.” She slumped back into her chair and let the tears flow.  Before Derek could get up and get her tissues, Erica passed one over.

“Thank you Allison.” Peter said, before taking a breath and moving on. “Scott?”

Derek’s sponsee looked away from the girl next to him, clearly stunned by her admission and up at the top table. “What? Right… sorry… I’m Scott and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi Scott.”

“This meeting…” He shook his head. “Thank you Isaac for your share and Peter and Derek for doing service.  Every time I think I’ve seen strength in here something like this meeting happens. Isaac…” He looked up at the boy who’d shared with pure adoration on his face.  “I know a lot of your story… but some of that was new and, well, you _are_ incredible. It’s amazing that you can sit here, with us and work the program with such honesty.  I struggled with that for a long time, but your example has really helped me see that, in here, I can share what I’m truly thinking and feeling.  Right now… I’m just confused.

“I’m confused about what I should do… what’s right and what’s wrong in recovery.  As a human being, there’s things I want to say and do, that, to me, it’s obvious are right and good.  But the program and the traditions tell me I shouldn’t and I don’t know how to reconcile that.  Like… how can this be a loving and open program if we can’t…” Scott stopped himself and gave a pained look around the room.

“What I can say is that I’m grateful I’ve not drank today. And I’m grateful for the friends I’ve made in the rooms… even if I’ve no idea…” He stopped and shook his head. “Thanks.” He said and stopped, concerned looks going between Allison and Isaac.

“Thanks Scott. Last but not least, Derek.”

“Thanks Peter.  And thank you Isaac for your share.  This _has_ been a powerful meeting, but you know what… that’s what AA is – powerful.  We all tried stopping on our own but couldn’t, and here we all are… sober for today.  And that’s all that matters.  I’m really happy I was here today and heard you all, it makes my recovery easier.

“Thing is… I needed to hear all of you today.  I think I’ve been living in the future a bit. Not literally, obviously… but rather than live in the day and see what’s in front of me I’ve been worrying about possibilities but… listening to you, Isaac… it helped me realise that we never know what the future will hold, but we should do our best to face it with strength, and friends and the program.” Derek stopped and nodded to his uncle who smiled back.

“Thank you everyone, please remember the tenth tradition and help me close the meeting with the serenity prayer.” He waited for everyone to link hands: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.” He ended and pulled Isaac into a hug. 

Derek did the same to Scott and whispered to him, “You can’t fix everyone Scott, just be a good friend.” His sponsee nodded and turned back to Allison, pulling her into a hug of his own.  Seeing the first person he’d become friends with in AA relapse was certainly going to have an effect on the young man and Derek knew that he’d have to ensure he checked in with his sponsee regularly.

His other sponsee seemed to be making a bee-line for the door and Derek just caught his sleeve before he was out. “Hey. You OK?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I not have to sign your card?”

Jackson fumbled in his back pocket and thrust the worn card into Derek’s hand. “Yeah, here.”

“What you doing about this while your away? Is there meetings where you’re going?” Derek asked, pulling a pen out of his pocket.

“Nah, it’s all sorted.” Jackson said and Derek initialed in the next blank box but held it out of his sponsee’s reach as he grabbed for it.

“Jackson… what’s this?” He said holding the card out.

“Nothing. Just give it back.” He snatched the court order out of Derek’s hand.

“You’ve filled this in yourself… “ He said, shocked.

“Yeah. So?” Jackson huffed. “Sometimes I forget it, or don’t make it to a meeting but I talk to you so that’s basically the same… so I copied your initials? Big deal!”

“Jackson…” Derek said, bemused.  He honestly had thought he was getting somewhere, that his sponsee was taking AA more seriously, but seeing how he’d been forging his card, Derek had doubts.

“Whatever, _Derek_.” Jackson huffed and stormed out. Derek thought about chasing after him but knew from experience that his sponsee didn’t appreciate being followed when in that mood.  Instead, he texted Jackson to let him know he wasn’t angry, that he should have a nice holiday and they’d catch up when he got back.

Sighing, he refocused on the sponsee left in the room only to find him hugging Isaac for what seemed in inordinately long time.  He was so busy worrying about the pair of them that he missed Stiles sidling up beside him.  “They’ll be OK.  We’ll watch out from them…” The younger man said, reading Derek’s mind.

“Who’ll watch out for us…?” He asked with a sideways smile.

“Our sponsors, and friends.  We’ll be OK Der, you’ll see.  We still good for coffee yeah?”

“Yes.  I want to keep an eye on Scott though and see Allison.” He dropped his voice.  “Did you have any idea…?”

“No. None.” He sounded as shocked as Derek felt.  “I thought she was tight… you know?”

“Yeah. At least she came back.”

“Keep coming back.  There’s a reason it’s drilled into us.” 

Derek turned and raised an eyebrow. “Drilled into us?”

Stiles groaned and rolled his eyes. “Please Lord, tell me your not one of those people who find innuendo in everything.” He finished with a smile though.

“In _your_ end o.” Derek grinned.  It was childish and silly but it felt right, especially when Stiles laughed.

“I’ve got my work got out with you don’t I, big guy?” Stiles reached up and stroked Derek’s shoulder, the younger man’s thumb trailing down his neck.

“No more than I do, I think… Come on, let’s separate the lover boys while we still can.” Derek nodded over to Scott and Isaac.

“OK, but play nice.” Stiles said following his lead. 

Derek could feel him at his shoulder, a support, someone to rely on and it felt unexpectedly right and good. 


	7. Boyd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boyd's share is something that Derek needed to hear.

Derek stomach was churning as he and his uncle set up the room for their weekly Meeting. While he knew Jackson had been going away, he was surprised his sponsee hadn’t got back in contact after his break and Derek was officially worried. He’d texted the boy three times that day and was hoping against hope he’d turn up at the meeting. Annoyingly, Scott was avoiding him too, just as Isaac was avoiding Peter and they both thought they knew the reason why.

  
At the coffee Derek and Stiles had had last week, they’d agreed that anything Scott told his friend in confidence would stay like that, even if it was something his sponsor should know, so Derek didn’t feel he could ask Stiles if he knew what was going on. Thinking about the young man he was seeing made Derek smile, even if it didn’t settle his nerves.

  
“You look weird.” Peter said out of the blue.

“Thanks!” Derek laughed in disbelief.

“No… I mean… you kind of look both happy and worried at the same time… it’s odd.”

Derek nodded. “I am… Stiles and I went for dinner last night and it was great-“

“Oh yeah?” His uncle interrupted.

“Yes. And I am so not telling you details.”

“Come on Derek…? Let me live vicariously through you young ones!”

“A. You’re not that old and B. We’re related which makes it all kinds of urgh and C. We’re taking it slow so there’s nothing to share.” Stiles was clearly already having a positive effect on Derek – he felt lighter, freer, more able to have fun and not just when laughing with the younger man, but generally. They’d actually discussed why the night before. Derek had opened up about his first girlfriend Paige, about what happened to her and what happened to him afterwards. Stiles had listened, quietly and supportive, even when Derek moved on to his disastrous relationships when he was drinking; with Kate, with Ennis with Jennifer and all the one night stands. Stiles had shared his dating history, such as it was. He hadn’t really dated before he started drinking so a lot of it was half-remembered bad, bad sex.

“Well… I’m just happy you’re happy, need I guess at the worry?” Peter asked, with a smirk.

“Our wayward sponsees? Yeah…” Derek shook his head, checking his watch. It was at a little after twenty to eight and the meeting had usually attract some early birds, but thus far it was empty. “Remember when Isaac and Scott were always here first?”

“That’s because Isaac was dropped off by Eichan House and Scott wanted to see Isaac…” Peter said, pouring them both a coffee, which Derek accepted with thanks.

“I take it you’ve not heard from him then?”

“Not beyond texts saying he’s fine, busy and spending plenty of time with members. I saw him on Tuesday at the lunchtime meeting downtown though? He was shifty… Well, even more shifty than usual?” Peter finished with a shrug. Derek nodded and went to answer the door which had finally knocked. Boyd and Erica came in, both warmly welcomed, especially as Boyd had agreed to do the share. Just as Derek was about to close the door Isaac bounced up all sweetness and light, followed thirty seconds by Scott who had the same dopey smile on his face. Clearly they were pretending that they were arriving separately despite their red faces and sneaky looks. Derek just rolled his eyes, thankful they were both there.

Allison arrived next, Garrett in tow, followed by Braeden and a couple of other people Derek wasn’t as familiar with. The meeting had settled into a regular pattern of attracting a dozen or so young members, which Derek thought was respectable and there was enough recovery that when he and Peter’s time was up doing Service there were members who could take over. He’d hoped Allison would, but her relapse had hit her hard and she was still finding her feet again, still learning to trust in herself and her Higher Power.

As Derek drained the last of his coffee the door knocked once more and he went to open it, crossing his fingers that Jackson was there; instead he found a worried and nervous looking Danny. “Hi.” The boy said with a wave and sickly smile, though he made no move towards going in. Despite that, Derek stepped outside and pulled the door behind him.  
“Danny… it’s not an open meeting tonight.” Derek said, looking up and down the street, seeing if he could spot any members, “Is Jackson with you?”

“No.” Danny almost whined, “that’s why I’m here, I hoped he’d be here…” He looked up hopefully but Derek shook his head.

“No, I’ve not seen him since last week’s meeting, but maybe his family just extended their holiday?”

“What?” Danny asked, clearly confused.

“Jackson? His family holiday? They were all going skiing in Colorado, said he’d be back on Tuesday.” Danny held his head in his hands and shook his head.

“That’s… No. Just no. I’ve been to his parent’s place and they haven’t heard from either.” Derek’s heart sank to his boots and kept on going.

“Fuck.” He breathed. If Jackson had lied to him, to them both, something was definitely wrong. “He told me he was going away… that he was fine?”

“He’s not allowed to go away, he’s not supposed to leave the state? Probation?” He asked and Derek hung his head, giving it a shake.

“Oh, yeah… right…”

“Chirst. Where are you Jacks?” Danny said, to himself more than Derek who answered anyway.

“I don’t know Danny, but I’ll ask around…? Give me your number and I’ll text you if I find anything.” They exchanged numbers and Derek realised the other boy was shuddering.

“Are you going to be OK?”

“Yeah… I just don’t know what to do? I know that he’s not been going to his meetings, I’ve seen him forging his card but he said his probation officer never really looked anyway and that you’d said it was OK to just do the one meeting a week…?” Danny looked up and Derek shook his head.

“No… I never said that… I wouldn’t say that… especially not to Jackson.”

“What happens now? Is there some way of finding him?” Danny asked and Derek just shook his head.

“If he’s drinking again, and avoiding us, he’s going to avoid us for as long as he wants to, it’s his choice though.”

“Can’t you help me look for him, though? I mean… you’re his sponsor, right?” Danny asked, voice raising a little in exasperation.

“I am, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to trawl the bars looking for him. Jackson knows where I am and he has my number, if he wants help I’ll always give it, but he has to ask for it.”

“But… but…” Danny tried and Derek gripped his shoulder.

“I will ask Danny, but if he’s out… he’s out…” He tried for a comforting smile but the look of disdain from the younger man shattered it.

“I thought you cared about him? I thought you were his friend?” He sneered, venom and bitterness in his voice.

“I am. I really am. But… this program has limits and rules. If he’s drinking again… and I hope to God he’s not, I can’t be with him until he stops. Hopefully he’ll just have the flu or something and is sleeping it off…” The look of sheer incredulity Danny gave him made Derek duck his head and blush. They both knew that Jackson being missing for a week, lying about what he was doing and where he was, ignoring his phone calls and texts really suggested only one thing.

“So…what am I supposed to do now…?” He begged and Derek shook his head.

“Do what you’re doing… I will too… We’ll find him and he’ll either let us help or he won’t… but it’s up to him… Danny. Honestly, you need to let him make his own choices.”  
The young man teared up. “But… what if…?” He didn’t have to finish the thought.

“He won’t.” Derek said and pulled his sponsee’s best friend into a hug, squeezing him tight as Danny shook with tears. “Shush, shush. Come on.” They parted and Derek left him with a promise to call him as soon as Jackson turned up. Closing the door behind him, Derek took a moment to slump against it, hanging his head. “Please Lord. I don’t ask for much, but please look out for your son Jackson and get him the help he needs. Amen.” He made a point of not asking his Higher Power for much beyond a chance to stay sober, but if Jackson was out and drinking, he felt it was deserved.

Pulling himself together, Derek went to go into the meeting but was pulled back by the door knocking once more. When he opened it he found Stiles looking at him with a frown on his face. “Was that Jackson’s friend?”

“Yeah. Jackson’s… well… he’s missing I guess?”

“Oh Der…” Stiles said and stepped up to Derek, pulling him in for a hug. While they’d agreed to keep their relationship out of the rooms he absolutely needed a hug right then.

“I’m OK.”

“What happened?” Stiles asked, slipping his hand into Derek’s, who explained hoping that he’d be told he was over-reacting. “I’m sorry, I’ll ask around too… he was sometimes at the Sunday afternoon meeting I go to…?”

“OK, thanks… let me know, yeah?” He asked and something in his voice must have given away just how much pain he was in as Stiles placed a warm hand against the side of Derek’s face and leant up to press a small, supportive kiss on his lips.

“Of course. I’m going to head in.” Stiles nodded at the meeting room and Derek nodded, following him, though he cast a longing look back at the door, hoping for one last knock. When it didn’t come, Derek settled in his chair by the door and waited for the meeting to begin. 

At the dot of eight, Peter opened the meeting. “Welcome everyone to the Thursday night Young and Sober AA meeting. I’ll start as tradition demands with reading the preamble and the blue card. Alcoholics Anonymous is fellowship of men and women who share their experience, strength and hope with each other that they may solve their common problem and help others to recover from alcoholism. The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking. There are no dues or fees for A.A. membership; we are self supporting through our own contributions. A.A. is not allied with any sect, denomination, politics, organization or institution; does not wish to engage in any controversy, neither endorses nor opposes any causes. Our primary purpose is to stay sober and help other alcoholics to achieve sobriety.

“And the blue card... This is a closed meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. In support of A.A’s singleness of purpose, attendance at closed meetings is limited to persons who have a desire to stop drinking. If you think you have a problem with alcohol, you are welcome to attend this meeting. We ask that when discussing our problems, we confine ourselves to those problems as they relate to alcoholism.

Normally, Derek found a sense of calm at hearing those words, but, with Jackson out it seemed that nothing was going to calm him. Refocusing on his uncle, he tried his best to put aside his feelings about his sponsee and listen to the top table.

“Thank you all for being here. I’m not going to talk for long, I just want to say how pleased I am to see so many people here. This week I’ve been reminded that this is a difficult disease to control and one of the biggest things it messes with is exactly that – our sense of control. I want to control a lot of things around me and it’s become part of my morning reflections to really take the time to consider my Step 3 – turning my will over to this group of drunks to not only restore me to sanity but to take care of the people who are important to me. It’s a hard lesson to learn and even harder to live on a daily basis.

“On the plus side… I don’t need to share today, I’m looking forward to listening to Boyd here, then we’ll have a short break. Boyd?” He asked the young man at his side who nodded and took up the share.

“Thank you, errr, Peter?” Derek’s uncle nodded. “And thank you for asking me to share. People don’t tend to ask that. I think, when I got sober, the people in the rooms didn’t ask me because they thought I didn’t have anything to say. I did. But, why use twenty words when you can use two?” He asked the room and Derek looked across to where Stiles was grinning his way; he’d said almost the exact opposite the night before at dinner.

“I got sober just over five years ago. Did it the AA way, came to meetings, got a sponsor, worked the program and lived sober. My life went from unmanageable to pretty good to great and I managed to be the person my family needed me to be. Which is a gift I never thought I’d get.

“My sister. I had a sister. She was a couple of years younger than me and I’d have to look after her when my parents were working. One day I was supposed to be watching her, but, after my Dad had gotten me into drinking and I was pretty drunk. She went outside to play… in the street. Got hit by a car.” Boyd was quiet for a moment, hands clasped together and Derek realised he was praying.

“It was my fault. In recovery I’ve come to accept that it wasn’t 100% my fault, but there’s blame there. And my guilt is right and it’s something I’m always going to have to live with, but her death, and the way my family was with me after? It doesn’t make me want to drink the way I used to, which I’m grateful for. This program and the steps… They’re made to help people who have addictions live their lives and, sometimes that means being in meetings every day, or always having a member with you, or speaking to a sponsor every day. Sometimes though it means you don’t have to.

“I was grateful to AA when I got sober, but … there came a time when I could do this without all this…” He waved a hand around the room. “And I could, and did, for ages… but… sometimes, life gets too hard, sometimes it all gets too much and that’s when you need to come back. I know it wasn’t the healthiest way of doing it… and coming back to these rooms was harder than I thought it would be. It felt like a failure, that I had to come back at all? Like, I’d done the program? Surely I was done?

“But. My Higher Power always watches out for me, so when a friend of mine told me she was coming here I had an in, you know? Then we got the news about my Dad, he died recently, and I thought that this was the right time to come back. Then, wow, my first meeting back and I heard exactly, like exactly, what I needed to hear and made a new friend.” He gave Isaac a very small smile. “So, I don’t know. Right now… I’m coming because I’m fighting a need to drink every day. It’s helping being here though, which is I guess what I’m trying to say… that meetings, and you guys, you all help. So thank you.”

Boyd stopped and Peter broke the meeting up for the break. Derek found Scott looking at him sheepishly and he crooked his finger, becoming the younger man over. His sponsee trudged across the room and sat down next to Derek. “Hey.”

“Hello Scott… anything you want to tell me?” He asked, trying to keep his tone friendly and polite.

“Not really.” He said, glancing up and away quickly. “We’re not doing anything wrong.” He eventually added and Derek sighed.

“Look… just be careful, and stop avoiding us, me and Peter, we’ve supposed to be there to help you through your recovery and if you’re embarking on a relationship, any relationship, you need to be able to speak to me. Listen… have you seen or heard from Jackson this week?” Derek asked, sensing the younger man needed a change of subject.

“What? No… It’s not like we hung out, just coz we had the same sponsor doesn’t mean we were friends. I always thought he was a bit of a douche. Why?”

“I’ve not heard from him for a few days, neither has Danny, his friend… and… he’s been, well… I’m just worried he’s out.” Derek said, huffing slightly as Stiles came over and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Out, like drinking out?” Scott asked, looking between his sponsor and friend. Derek nodded, reaching up and giving Stiles’ hand a squeeze; Scott rolled his eyes at the easy affection. “My god, does no one stay sober?” Scott asked quietly, more to himself than anyone else, his knee starting to jiggle up and down.

“Yes Scott, they do. I have, Stiles, Peter, Boyd and countless others. But that’s not the point.”

“What is the point then?” Scott snarked, not looking round.

“One day at a time Scotty.” Stiles said and his friend looked up at him. “No one knows what the future holds, but we do it one day at a time, together, with friends, and try.” He smiled sadly and Scott nodded. Derek excused himself to get some coffee and talk to some other members knowing that his sponsee would probably prefer to talk to Stiles over him anyway.

“How are you?” He asked Erica who was listlessly stirring her own coffee.  
With distracted eyes, she looked at him for a couple of seconds. “Sorry, I’ve been feeling epileptic all day, it’s hard to keep sentences and thoughts.”

“Oh.” He said with a frown, knowing next to nothing about about epilepcy. “Do you… Can I help?” He asked and the young woman shook her head.

“No. Not really.” She sighed. “Thanks though.” They stood in awkward silence for a couple of seconds. “I think… I might be done. Here. With this.”

“What do you mean?”

“AA. It’s not really… I mean, I come and I listen and I’m not drinking and that’s good, but the rest of it… It’s just not for me I think.” She said, not quite meeting his eyes.  
“O…K…” He said, unsure how to respond.

Erica sighed again. “I’m just not really feeling the need to drink like you lot do. I was drinking too much, but I stopped and now it’s all fine.”

“Look. I know we haven’t talked much, but I’d suggest not rushing into anything. I’m glad you aren’t feeling like it’s a struggle at the moment, but it could just be the pink cloud…?”

“Pink cloud?”

“Yeah… there’s a time in everyone’s recovery when they fell euphoric and that living without drinking will be easy – we call it the pink cloud. It does dissipate though. I’m just saying… if it’s not doing you any harm, you should stick around.” Erica shrugged and nodded but before they could continue, Peter called the room back so Derek went back to his chair.

He missed Jackson. Despite his sponsee’s surly attitude Derek found that he missed the young man; he missed the slow and, he thought, steady progress they made chatting at the breaks of meetings, or when he could get Jackson to meet him for coffee or food. He wanted to get up to leave and go look for him, but knew he couldn’t. The program dictated that members should support each other, walking as one up to the gates of hell if necessary. Up to. When someone goes through those gates, starts drinking again, then… you need to let them go. Derek thought sadly to himself. As painful as it was, for the sake of his own recovery, he had to cut Jackson off until he had stopped drinking.

“Thank you everyone.” Peter said. “And thank you Boyd, I certainly identified with a lot, but I’ve spoken a lot today already so… I’ll pass it over. Isaac?”

“Thanks Peter, and Derek and Boyd. I’m Isaac and I’m and alcoholic.”

“Hi Isaac.”

“I really liked listening to you and hearing your story. I’ve suffered loss too and I guess I have guilt there too, though I’m not really as clear as you on that front, yet… but… Yeah, it was a good share. It made me hopeful, when you said that your life went from unmanageable to good? I think I’m still in the unmanageable stage, everything’s still so hard… but I’m living somewhere that’s helpful. I have to live in their boundaries, but it’s good. I’m in a nice apartment with three other guys and, well, they’re OK. They’re addicts and alcoholics too, well, only one guy is an alcoholic, but we’re all addicts which makes it easier? Sometimes? Oh I dunno… thanks.” Isaac waved and Peter nodded.

“Thank you. Scott?”

“Thank you Peter, and Derek and Boyd. My name is Scott and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi Scott.”

“Yeah, Boyd… thanks for your share. One of the things I’ve been struggling with recently is the fact that this program is completely mental.” He huffed a little laugh. “No seriously, look at you, Boyd, you’re living sober in a way that my sponsor and the Big Book says is wrong, but you’ve done it right and you’re here and alright and then there’s everyone else… I think I just really wanted there to be like an exact right way and wrong way. I want for there to be no shades of grey… But life doesn’t really work that way.” He sighed. “I wanted it when I was drinking, and I want it now. I suppose I’m just looking for the easy way out again.” He glared at Derek, both of them recognising his character defect. “I did really identify with one thing though, the feeling like a failure thing? I didn’t want to come to AA, I didn’t want to be like my Dad… it felt like the worst thing ever, like I wasn’t able to live my life the way everyone else did or should. I guess I’m still struggling with that feeling too. I wish… I wish… Anyway… I’m grateful for the program and for keeping me sober today. Thanks.”

“Thank you Scott.” Peter moved the meeting on and Derek zoned out, focusing on his sponsee. He looked much as he ever did and Derek wished, once again, for the power to read the younger man’s mind. When they met for coffee, or talked on the phone, Scott always seemed to be doing well – it was only at meeting that he shared his struggles and fears. He’d need to work out some way to get him to talk outside of meetings too.   _Hmmm, maybe Stiles would know what to do?_ He turned his attention to the man he was seeing, currently sharing and talking animatedly with his hands flapping as he illustrated his point. Derek had to duck his head a little as his brain flashed into thinking what those long dexterous fingers would feel dancing along his shoulders and down his back. Blushing he gave his head a little shake and went back to listening to the members, ignoring Stiles as best he could.

“Thank you Garrett, Derek?” Peter eventually said.

“Thank you Peter. I’m Derek and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi Derek.”

“Thank you Boyd for your share. It was great… I… “ Derek paused. He always shared honestly, and always tried to stay on message but sometimes, especially with some subjects, it was hard. “I identified with what you said about family and guilt.” He was aware of Peter looking at him, but completely ignored him. “I’ve experienced a fair amount of loss too and I blamed myself for a long time and it fueled my drinking for years. When… when my family died and I wasn’t there… I just couldn’t… It was a fire, my Mom, Dad, little brother and sister. All gone…” Derek had to stop. He knew he could talk about his family and the fire, but sometimes, when he wasn’t expecting to, it was too hard. He gave up. “Your share reminded me that we can get perspective. That we can move on and we aren’t owned by our pasts. So thank you.” He slumped back, a light sheen of sweat covering his forehead.

“Thank you Derek.” Peter’s voice sounded thick and Derek cursed himself, he’d no doubt brought up horrible memories for his uncle too. Glancing at him, Derek found the same pain reflected in Peter’s eyes that was in his and looked away, right into the concerned gaze of Stiles, who was looking at him with such care and concern he nearly broke down. “Please help me close the meeting in the usual manner.” That was all Peter said as he came out from the desk and gripped his nephew’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.” They all intoned and Derek was immediately engulfed by his uncle’s hug. “It’s not your fault.” He heard in his ear and nodded.

“I know that. I do.” Derek said and hugged back. “I’m sorry.” He said, apologising for bringing up bad memories.

“It’s OK. It’s OK.” Peter said, continuing the hug. Derek took a deep breath and let go, moving from one hug into another as Stiles wrapped his long, strong arms around him. Their hug was just as long though there was something more in it that Derek couldn’t quite place. Promise?

“Der… are you OK?” Stiles whispered and he nodded, keeping his head on the younger man’s shoulder. “I’ve never asked about your family…” He admitted.

“Not today… one day, just…” Derek said, savouring the unique smell that was Stiles and sighing gratefully. He was so comfortable that he almost whined when the hug ended. Scott was right behind him though and, surprisingly, gave Derek the tightest hug yet. “Gah!” He laughed, “Easy Scott!” He chuckled, patting his sponsee on the back.

“I’m sorry. I’ve never even asked about you… you’ve done so much for me and I’ve never asked.” Scott seemed genuinely concerned which touched Derek deeply; after the rocky start they’d had, he’d wondered if that ever be friends.

“That’s OK, you had bigger things to worry about…” He admitted and shook Scott’s shoulder affectionately.

“If you ever want to talk though, I’m here… I don’t want this to be a one way street…” He said and Derek nodded, smiling.

“Thanks. I’d like that too.” He looked over his sponsee’s shoulder to see Peter still being hugged by Isaac, though he looked less comfortable with the experience than Derek had been being hugged by his sponsee.

“Does anyone want to go for coffee?” Stiles asked, not to Derek but to the room in general and Scott immediately accepted, followed by Isaac. Erica and Boyd and Allison and Garrett, who’d been standing next to Stiles when he spoke accepted to and, just as Derek was about to decline, his uncle spoke up.

“We’d love to. Lead on MacDuff.”

Stiles smirked and raised an eyebrow. “I think you mean ‘Lay on, MacDuff,”

“Whatever.” Peter rolled his eyes and playfully swiped a cuff at Stiles’ head. Derek reacted instinctively and pulled the younger man protectively into his chest, though he did it with a smile on his face. Stiles squawked but pressed up against him and grinned up at Derek who had to use a great deal of willpower not to kiss him there and then. Instead he promised himself he’d get Stiles into that position again when they were alone.

“Subtle.” Scott murmured, “We’ll help you tidy up.”He added at a more normal volume and grabbed Isaac’s hand leading him to the kitchen. Derek tried not to frown, he was sure his sponsee saw his relationship with Stiles as an equivalent to his with Isaac. Rather than say anything though, Derek just shared a look with Peter who rolled his eyes and shrugged.

As the meeting was packed away in record time, everyone working together, Derek couldn’t help but think about Jackson and he threw up another prayer.

  
“Dear Lord, look after all your sons and daughters in their hours of need.”


	8. Lydia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's news in the meeting and Lydia makes a guest appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... 
> 
> Here's what happened.
> 
> My computer died. Like full on death and it took with it not only the last two chapters of this sad, neglected fic... 
> 
> There's only one episode to go and it should be up next weekend. 
> 
> I had to replace ALL my work work though and that took forever and a day. :-(

Derek tried to remember a time when he wasn’t nervous while waiting for Scott.  His sponsee was so cagey, he never knew what he was walking into when meeting him.  Not that he was complaining, at least this sponsee was still in the program.  Unlike Jackson.  It had been six weeks since the meeting that Danny had turned up to.  Derek had soon after stopped texting and calling though he didn’t stop hoping with each ring, or text, that Jackson might be getting back in contact.  But no.

As he sat, nursing his coffee in the hospital canteen, he scrolled through his messages and sent a quick, flirty one to Stiles.  His boyfriend –they’d become Facebook official that week - fast becoming his rock,  someone he could rely on, rant to or just laugh and relax with.  Every night, Stiles name was on the top of Derek’s gratitude list.  While waiting for a reply though, Scott came through the double doors, hood up and hands thrust into the pockets of his hoodie.

Resisting the urge to sigh – Derek knew that Scott was hurting when he looked like that – he stood to hug his sponsee.  Normally they had a brief embrace and parted, but when Scott reached him, he seemed unwilling to let his sponsor go, holding on to him for what seemed like a long time.  “What’s up?” Derek asked as Scott eventually stepped back.

Scott grimaced and sat down.  “Isaac… he’s out. Drinking.”

“Oh Scott.” Derek’s sympathy was met with a glare despite it being genuine and heartfelt.  “What happened?”

“It was my…” Scott glared at the table and started making patterns in some spilt water.  “On Saturday just gone, we were texting while I was at work and he sent on saying he loved me and…” He shook his head.  “I wanted to say it back, I did, but I didn’t want to do it over text, I wanted to say it face to face so I just said ‘awesome.’” He huffed and scrubbed at his eyes.  “Well, that night, when I’d finished work, I tried to call him but it didn’t go through… he just didn’t pick up.  We never didn’t speak before bed, you know…?”  Derek nodded and Scott sighed.

“Fuck Derek,  he didn’t pick up until Sunday night.  He was drunk… it was…” Scott shuddered.  “It wasn’t even him, you know?” Derek nodded again and put his hand up on the table, leaving it in case Scott wanted comfort, but he was ignored.  “He was so upset I’d not said it back and when I explained he started crying, like big style… but then… I said we couldn’t see each other anymore and he didn’t get it.” Derek mentally breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that his sponsee had made, in his eyes, the right decision.  If Scott had tried to continue dating an alcoholic who was drinking there was no way he’d stay sober.  “I mean…” Scott continued.  “He did when I explained about needing to keep my sobriety and I couldn’t be with a drinker and he was genuinely surprised, he thought we could still be together… that love would conquer all?  I told him, I said, that if he came back, if he stopped drinking we could talk about it and he said he would, but I’ve not heard from him since… what… what do you think I should do?”

Scott sounded so broken and helpless and he was finally reaching out to Derek for support, but at a time when the older man could do nothing about it.  “I think you’ve done what you should do…” He said and Scott looked like he was physically in pain.  “You tried to get him back in and you’ve protected your recovery.  I know it’s hard but… you can’t see him now, not til he’s back in the program and has solid recovery under his belt.”

“Like you and Stiles?” Scott asked.  Derek searched his face, looking for bitterness or resentment but found only resignation.

“Yeah, like us.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say.” Scott sighed.  “But it sucks you know… I feel like I’ve failed him… If I just said it back…” He knuckled at his eyes again and muttered a curse under his breath.

“Scott, it’s not your fault.  If Isaac was going to drink, he was going to drink.  Yes, he used your not saying what he wanted as an excuse, but he was going to drink.  He didn’t phone Peter, or Boyd, or Erica, or Allison, he didn’t go to a meeting, he didn’t do anything he was supposed to because, deep down, on that day, he wanted to drink so he did.  If it hadn’t of been you on that day, it would have been Peter on another, or you, or me.  We can’t control anyone else-“

“Much as we’d like to.” He interrupted and Derek huffed a small laugh.

“Yeah, much as we’d like to.  But you shouldn’t beat yourself up over this, you should just concentrate on making sure _you_ stay safe now.”  Derek looked at him and frowned slightly.

“Dude, I don’t need babysitting.” Scott grumbled, reading his sponsor’s mind.

“It’s OK if you do, asking for help is strong, not weak.” 

“I know, but it’s Thursday and this happened on Sunday, I’ve been fine so far, seen people, been to meetings.  I’ll be OK.  You’ll see.” He sighed and hugged his arms to his chest.  “I just wish…” He trailed off, looking into the distance.

“I know.  For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.  I really like Isaac, I hope he makes it back.”  Derek said, in complete honesty.

“Yeah. Thanks. Me too.”  After that, they lapsed into their basic catch up chat and Derek tried his best to cheer Scott up, though he had little success.  Giving it up as a bad job, he suggested that they go help Peter set up the meeting. 

Sending Scott to put up the signs and arrange the chairs, Derek went to find his uncle in the kitchen, boiling water for the teas and coffees.  “Hey… Scott told me about Isaac.”  He said, gripping Peter’s shoulder.

“Yeah? I wish he’d told me. I’ve been sick with worry for days, I only found out earlier today when Isaac phoned me, drunk off his ass because he’d been told to leave the half-way house. He wanted to come stay with me… broke my heart to say no.” Peter said, slamming a drawer closed.

“Do you know where he went?” Derek asked, chest tightening with fear and empathy – he could only imagine what Isaac was going through.

“I told him to contact his social worker.  She’s still in control of his assets and the house where he and his father lived.  I know he won’t go back there, but she’ll have to help him find somewhere, right?”

“I hope so, I mean, sure... Do you know her name?” Derek asked and Peter nodded.

“You think I should contact her?”

“Maybe, yeah.  I mean, he’s probably not likely to go straight to her so maybe a heads up would be good…?”

“Yeah, yeah you’re right…” Peter sighed, “I thought he’d get there you know.”

“Yeah.  I hoped so too.  Scott’s beating himself up pretty badly right now.” Derek said and his uncle nodded.

“I bet.  I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank you.” He said, knowing that hearing what Derek had said from Isaac’s own sponsor would help.  He moved around the room, setting up, doing his best not to overly dwell on Isaac and Jackson, who, of course, was foremost in Derek’s mind.  When the first knock on the door sounded, Derek gratefully went to answer it, throwing up a prayer, hoping for Stiles. 

He opened the door to an entire gang of people – Stiles, happily, but Allison, Boyd and Erica too.  Garrett wasn’t there, for which Derek was grateful; he honestly didn’t think he could cope with the obnoxious young man.  He greeted them all warmly, but kept his boyfriend back as everyone went through.  “Hey, did you know about Isaac?” Derek asked and Stiles winced.

“Yeah.  Scott told me on Tuesday when we met for lunch.  I told him to talk to you…?”

“We met for coffee before the meeting.  You think he’ll be OK?” 

“Maybe.  I think so.  He seems to be focusing on his recovery, pouring all the pain into making sure he stays healthy which is the best we can ask for really…” He said with an expressive shrug.  Derek nodded and followed Stiles through to the main room, hoping to get a coffee.

As he did he heard Erica bark out a loud and disbelieving: “Fuck!”  Derek hurried over.  “What do you mean, he’s out!?” She cried, fists clenching.  “Why are you here? Why aren’t you with him!?” She demanded of Scott.

“Hey!” Derek interrupted with a glare.

“It’s OK Derek, I’ve got it.” He said, placing a hand on his sponsor’s arm.  He then turned to Erica and Boyd who were both glaring at him. “I’m here because I’m still an alcoholic and I really, really want a drink because my boyfriend is out somewhere, drinking and hurting and there’s nothing I can do to help him.”

“You could try!” Erica was fuming and clearly upset.  “This is bullshit.”  She said with a shake of her head.  “Fuck this, I’m not sitting with my thumb up my ass while my _friend_ needs me.” She said, viciously.  “Are you coming?”  She demanded and Derek held his breath as Scott seemed to genuinely consider it.

“I can’t.  I can’t help him if he’s out, I’ll be here for him though if he comes back…” He added to Erica’s back as she turned to go.

Boyd took them all in and glared before stating: “Weak.” And followed Erica out.  Allison, bless her heart, went to Scott and pulled him into a hug as tears flowed freely from his eyes.  Derek was thankful that at least they’d caused their scene early, before the meeting got busy. Shaking his head, knowing that he’d not see either Boyd or Erica again anytime soon, Derek grabbed his coffee, nodding at Stiles who went to join Allison in comforting their friend.

  1. _Erica was the share._ Derek thought and guiltily checked himself.  In all the pain and suffering around them all right then, finding someone to do the share was the least of his worries.  Before he could take a drink there was another knock on the door and Derek opened it to a stunningly beautiful, short, red-haired woman.  She smiled tightly at him and looked him up and down before the smile widened and he felt himself well and truly weighed.



“Welcome, is this your first meeting?” Derek asked, extending his hand.

“Hardly.” The woman said, stepping in and allowing him to shake her hand.  “I’m just visiting, from out East, thought I’d get a meeting in before my conference.  I’m Lydia.”

“Well, welcome.  Listen… I’m sorry to ask, but the person I’d asked to share tonight isn’t going to be able to… is there any chance you could do it?”  He looked at her with what he hoped was a hopeful expression but she nodded immediately.

“Of course.  What’s the format?” Derek smiled in relief and explained the way the meeting worked and introduced his uncle, who was still chairing.  Lydia seemed completely unperturbed about the sudden demand on her recovery.  Derek spent the next few minutes opening the door to a variety of members, including, with gritted teeth, Garrett.

Suddenly, Stiles bounded out of the room and barreled into Derek.  “Derek! Derek! Derek!” He was nearly exploding with excitement.  “Do you have any idea who that is?!”

“Who?” He asked, confused.

“Lydia! Lydia Martin?! Youngest ever recipient of the Fields Medal and only the second woman EVER!?”

“Oh. Errr… Wow.” Derek could tell that, despite not knowing what this meant, he should try and look impressed.

“You have no idea what I’m talking about do you?” Stiles deadpanned and glared at his older boyfriend.

“No.” He admitted with a smile as Stiles quickly pecked a kiss on his lips.

“The Fields Medal is like, the nobel prize for mathematicians.  It’s like…” He mimed his head exploding.  “She’s made inroads to the Goldbach Conjecture! Goldbach, Derek!” They both laughed at Stiles’ enthusiasm. 

“Are you geeking out?!”

“Are you asking?!” He rolled his eyes.  “Lydia Martin has been my intellectual crush since I first heard of her! And she’s here! In my meeting! Sharing!” Stiles was flushed and happy but Derek couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

“Crush?” Though he said it playfully and lightly, there was a small kernel of fear there too. 

“Oh behave.  I’m all about the Derek, you know that.” Stiles said, snuggling into a hug.  “You’ve nothing to _actually_ worry about, anyway, even if I did like her, it’s not like she’d like me back.”

Derek held his boyfriend at arm’s length and gave him a disbelieving look.  “Stiles… you’re amazing and you know it.”

“No… you think it.  There’s a difference.”

Derek huffed and pulled the younger man back into a hug.  “There’s no difference.  You’re awesome, but she can’t have you.”

Stiles chuckled in his arms but nodded.  “OK, OK… But… Wow, Lydia Martin.” He sighed and shook his head.  “Epic.”  He released Derek as there was another knock on the door.  Another member, but not Isaac. Not Jackson. 

There were a few more arrivals before the meeting started at eight o’clock and Derek slipped into the room and onto his chair by the door. 

“Welcome everyone to the Thursday evening meeting of Beacon Hills Young and Sober meeting.  I’ll start with tradition and read the preamble and the blue card.  Alcoholics Anonymous is fellowship of men and women who share their experience, strength and hope with each other that they may solve their common problem and help others to recover from alcoholism. The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking. There are no dues or fees for A.A. membership; we are self supporting through our own contributions. A.A. is not allied with any sect, denomination, politics, organization or institution; does not wish to engage in any controversy, neither endorses nor opposes any causes. Our primary purpose is to stay sober and help other alcoholics to achieve sobriety. 

“And the blue card... This is a closed meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous.  In support of A.A’s singleness of purpose, attendance at closed meetings is limited to persons who have a desire to stop drinking.  If you think you have a problem with alcohol, you are welcome to attend this meeting.  We ask that when discussing our problems, we confine ourselves to those problems as they relate to alcoholism.

“I’m not sharing tonight, but I will say I’m in need of a meeting. I’ve had a shitty week, like… really.  This program doesn’t seem fair sometimes.  People who deserve recovery, who without a shadow of a doubt deserve a new, better life free from alcohol just… don’t make it.  And it hurts and I want to rant and rave and scream and, most importantly, I want to drink.  I’m in pain and I want it to end and the best way I know to do that is through getting absolutely hammered.” He sighed sadly and rubbed a hand over his face.  “So I’m here.  I’m here because I worked my program enough to recognise that I _need_ to be in meetings or, at least with another member.

“Anyway,  I’m gonna shut up and let our guest talk then we’ll take a break for ten minutes before returning and giving you all a chance to talk.  Lydia?” He asked with a smile and a nod.

“Thank you Peter and thank you to the handsome man who opened the door and asked me to share.” Derek blushed and sank a little into his chair, eyes darting to Scott and Stiles, the latter of whom was grinning openly at his discomfort, though Scott seemed to be just trying to smile through his pain.  “I’m just visiting for a conference this weekend and when I was looking up meetings I may attend this one caught my eye.  We don’t have a huge amount of meetings where I live at the moment and not a young and sober one.  It’s a good idea though.

“I remember when I first got into recovery and I was ridiculously the youngest person there by a long way… mind you,” she added with a sideways smile, “I’m used to being the youngest in an organisation.”  Stiles made an odd squeaking noise and, while most of the room looked at him curiously, Lydia just smiled wider and tilted her head in his direction in acknowledgement.  “What I heard stuck with me though and my first sponsor was fantastic.  She passed away earlier this year, but I’ll forever be grateful for her influence.

“So.  Recovery.  When I got into the rooms I was a bit of a mess.  I wasn’t sure who I was.  When I was very small my parents pushed me into ice-skating, wanting me to be the next Sarah Hughes and I enjoyed it, I really did, but it also let me create a front to hide behind.  If I was the ice-skater I didn’t have to be anything else.  I could read and learn and soak up everything I possibly could and so long as I kept up my training and be the girl everyone expected, I was fine.

“Then when I got a bit older and my looks kicked in it was expected that I get a boyfriend, so I did.  Being who I was though, I wanted the best of the best.  I’ve always been competitive so, for me, it was the star quarterback or nothing.  Nevermind that I didn’t love him, or even like him, I convinced myself I did so I could be what everyone expected me to be.

“Expectations were huge for me.  My parents were clear in what they wanted from me, clear in what I should do and be.  Strangely, they never really expected me to be intelligent, and certainly not a genius.” Derek blinked at her matter of fact statement.  She wasn’t being arrogant or smug; this was a fact.  Like her statement about her looks – Lydia just knew her worth. 

“Their expectations just made it easier for me to hide though.  If I could be the girl I was told I should be I didn’t have to think about who I really was.  Masks.  That’s what my life was.  A series of masks.  Unfortunately, as I got older, and smarter, it became harder for me to hide my intelligence or startling disregard for the people around me.  Even more unfortunately this realisation came at the same time that I started to go to parties.

“How teenagers always seem able to find kegs of beer I will never know.  It’s always someone’s cousin or something…. Anyway… I took to drinking like I’d been doing it my entire life.  Seriously, I went from never drinking to alcoholic in the space of about a week. 

“What happened next was a bit of a blur, but it essentially became the one thing I couldn’t cover up with a well prepared mask.  Then I got my first failing grade and it shocked me, hard.  While my drinking may not have lasted as long as some peoples, or included as many ‘yets’, it was mine and it scared me and it still does.  Not because I failed a test but because it became my everything.  It was the be all and end all of my life.  Where my next drink was coming from became more important than ice skating, studying, boys or even families.  It got to the point where I wasn’t interested in anything or anyone else.

“That’s when it happened.  My parents.”  Lydia squirmed a little in her seat. “They died.  In a car crash.  A truck didn’t see them and cut them off to get onto an exit and they swerved into the wall and flipped.”  She stopped and the room was silent.  Derek felt his face flush hot and red, but focused on Stiles, his rock, who was looking at Lydia with tears in his eyes.  “It wasn’t my fault, it had literally _nothing_ to do with me, but I blamed myself.  My aunt and uncle came to stay with me… I don’t really remember much of that time.” Her eyes were distant as she clearly tried to think about what to share. “It was painfully and I crawled even further into the bottle.  I was cut a lot of slack.  My grades were always superb so my teachers let me coast and keep my 4.0 GPA.  Everytime I came out of blackout I just couldn’t face it.  All I wanted was oblivion and I knew that drinking would give it to me.” Lydia was silent for a long time.

“It was my aunt who pulled me out of it.  She bundled me into a car and drove me off to a health spa.  We were probably there six, seven weeks.  It was probably the most luxuriously detox ever, but it still hurt like hell and I never, never, want to go through anything else like that again.  After that my life started to get back on track but it was with the added bonus of this hell of a disease.  It’s always there in the back… well, sometimes the front, of my mind, always waiting, patient and cruel. 

“I moved schools, areas, everything, just cut off all my old ties and started over.  My parents never really get to know the real me, which I’m still sad about, but everything I’m doing, every day I live sober is a day I’m doing it for them.  While they may not have known the fullness of who I am, I _know_ that they would want me to stay away from alcohol and live a life that makes me happy.  So that’s why I’m here.

“There are things which make sense in this program.  Going to meetings, sharing our experience with each other, talking, being in a community… these all make sense to me.  As do the sayings.  Some of them more than others.  I really like ‘think, think, think’. It’s scientific, methodical.  When surprised, or confronting something new, almost always, my first thought is drink.  My second thought is often drink too.  It’s my third thought, my rational thought that I need to listen too.  Sometimes my first thought is right, it’s rare, but it happens… but thinking things through twice more is never going to be a bad thing.

“’This too shall pass’ though.  That’s the one I keep coming back to.  This too shall pass.  It’s the most constant thought I have.  If I’m stuck in a problem, or celebrating winning something… this too shall pass.  No emotion will ever last forever.  No problem will ever keep me down, I just need to keep going and get through it and remember that … this too shall pass.  It’s similar to another quote I like, ‘If you’re going through hell… keep going.’”  Derek smiled over at Stiles, knowing that it was one of his boyfriend’s favourite quotes.  He grinned wider at the slack jawed look of awe on Stiles’ face, clearly he was astounded that his ‘intellectual crush’ was sharing his own personal mantra.

“I know that this is a short share, but… I’m not one for talking about myself, really.  I’ll end with a story I like.  A woman is walking along a beach and spies a bottle washed up on the shore. She picks it up and pulls out the cork and a genie pops out.  He stretches and says ‘I am the genie of the bottle here to grant you three wishes.   I’ve been trapped in that bottle for forty years, never escaping, never getting free, being tossed around by the currents with no control in my own direction.  But you’ve set me free, what are your wishes.’  The woman smiles, shakes his hand and says, ‘thank you, I can identify.’ And then walks on.

“Thanks for listening.”  Lydia says and Derek smiles at her. It was a story he’d heard before, but really liked. 

“Thank you Lydia, while that might have been shorter than the average share, it was full of identification for me.  My first thought is always a drink too.  More so at the moment than normal, but yeah.  The slogans… the slogans, I think, just kind of faded into the background for me.  I mean, I put them out every week, but I don’t think I’ve thought about them for a while.  ‘First things first’ was one of mine, I was always jumping ahead, trying to live too far into the future so that one brought me back.  Anyway… let’s take a comfort break, ten minutes please everyone and then back here.”  Peter nodded and the meeting broke up, people chatting or getting drinks as they needed to.

Derek was about to go to Stiles when he saw his boyfriend make a bee-line straight for Lydia.  Shaking his head ruefully, he headed over to his sponsee instead who was dejectedly frowning at the floor.  “You doing OK?” He asked and Scott looked up, blinking.

“Not really.  I don’t really get the story though…?” He asked and Derek sat, stretching it out.

“OK.  What do you think it means?”

“I’m not sure.  The genies supposed to be an alcoholic right? Like he’s trapped in a bottle?” Derek nodded and Scott continued.  “So the woman doesn’t want to use the wishes so he can?”

This time Derek shook his head.  “No, the woman is an alcoholic too.  She’s identifying with his story.”

“Oh… so she doesn’t want to use her wishes…?”

“Because she is living a sober life beyond her wildest dreams.  She has no needs for wishes because she’s already living them.”  Derek explained and resisted the urge to chuckle at the look of disbelief on his sponsee’s face.

“What a crock.” The younger man murmured and Derek grimaced.  That really wasn’t a message that Scott needed to hear at that moment.

“He’ll be OK Scott.  He’s young and he got the message… he did.  He’ll be back.” Derek tried to assure him.

“What if he doesn’t come back though?” Scott pleaded, eyes verging on tears looking disastrously young.

“Then you need to focus on you be the best you that you can be.” Derek said already hating how hollow and empty the words sounded.

Scott just shook his head and returned his gaze to the floor.  The pair of them sat in silence as the break unfolded around them.  Stiles was gushing unashamedly all over Lydia who was looking at him in a mixture of amusement and confusion.  Derek watched as his boyfriend’s natural enthusiasm and charm warmed Lydia into what appeared to be a rather animated discussion.   As much as he wanted to go over and join them, Derek knew his responsibility was to sit with Scott, sit and wait in case he wanted to talk, to share.

He didn’t though.

Peter resumed the meeting and Derek went back to his own chair, allowing Stiles back into his seat next to Scott.  They quickly shared a hand squeeze as they passed and Derek threw out a prayer of immeasurable gratitude for having a _stable_ , loving boyfriend. 

“Thank you everyone.  Thank you for coming back…” Peter eyeballed a couple of the members who were still finishing pouring themselves coffees and pointedly waiting for them to sit before continuing.  “This is now your part of the meeting, so I’ll turn it over you.  Please share responsibly and I’m sure we’ll all get a chance to speak.  Scott?” Peter asked turning to Derek’s sponsee.

The young man shifted uncomfortably and sat forward.  “Thanks Peter.” His voice sounded wooden and hollow, painfully reflective of his inner pain.  “I’m Scott and I’m an alcoholic.” He paused as he was greeted by the room, though he was silent for a long time after that. “I… “ He eventually started before stopping again.  “I’m not in a great place guys.  I… I’m not sure I’m good for anything other than listening, so… I’m just gonna…”  He shrugged his arms folded across his chest and sunk into his chair, eyes fixed on some point on the ground past his feet.

“Thank you Scott, keep coming back.” Peter murmured before moving on. “Stiles?”

“Thank you Peter, and thank you Derek for opening and Lydia for your share.” His smile split his face and Derek couldn’t help but grin at how happy his boyfriend looked.  The smiles on both their faces faltered though as Stiles glanced over to his oblivious friend who seemed lost in thought and despair.  “I’m Stiles and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi Stiles.”

“Hi.  I _loved_ your share.  I mean… I love shares generally and new-people shares more than any.  I love hearing new stories, new perspectives and when people come in from other states, other areas, we get to see how they do it.  I got sober somewhere where the slogans were central to meetings and here, they aren’t as…” He searched for the right word. “significant?  Yeah… maybe… I used to focus on them a lot too.  This too shall pass.” He nodded to Lydia, though maybe more to himself as well. “I lived on ‘This too shall pass’ at the beginning.

“It was like my mantra… whenever I thought I wanted to drink, or was just having a bad day I would repeat it over and over until whatever I was waiting for to pass had passed.  It was like my mini version of the Serenity Prayer, which I had issues with when I was younger.  I didn’t like how vague it was… like, who was to say what could and couldn’t be changed?  I don’t do well with challenges like that, I need to know…

“Anyway.  Thank you for the share.  I, yeah, it was great.”  Stiles nodded at Lydia who smiled at him, making him blush.

“Thank you Stiles.” Peter said, moving on, “Allison?” Derek listened intently as the responses went around the room, though he kept an eye on Scott too.  It was unnerving seeing how worked up his sponsee was getting as the time wore on.  Clearly, the younger man was worried about the meeting coming to an end and for all that he’d claimed not to need babysitting, Derek was starting to think that it might be for the best.

Before long, Peter turned to him, “Derek?”

He sat up straighter and composed himself, thinking of what would be best to react to; what it would be best for Scott to hear. “Thank you Peter, and thank you Lydia for your share.  There was plenty I identified with, things that resonated.  I think it’s important to remember that this disease is always waiting for us.  You said that, you said that it was always waiting, always cruel, right?” She nodded and Derek returned it.

“It _is_ cruel, this disease we share.  It’s cruel and unfair and seemingly random.” He paused to take a breath.  “But, your share helped remind me that if we do the right thing, if we come to meetings and share honestly…” He stopped, checking his thoughts.  His eyes strayed across the room.  His sponsee wasn’t paying attention, no doubt used to hearing Derek be so on message all the time and Stiles, well, he just has a concerned look on his face.

Derek turned his attention back to Lydia, ignoring anyone elses gaze.  This was a woman who had shared something he needed to hear, so she was the one he wanted to talk to.  “Actually. I did identify with something you said.  Masks.  I grew up the same way as you, I think.  I had quite a lot of expectations from family too and I hid behind that.  Even when I was small, I knew that my parents wanted me to take over the family business.  My whole life was spent living up to the ideas that had about me.  I didn’t have to think for myself and I found when I _had_ to, I couldn’t.”

Derek sucked in a shuddering breath.  “They died.  In a fire.  When I was sixteen.” He desperately tried not to look at his boyfriend, but couldn’t help himself.  His glance caught the look of pain and deep sympathy on Stiles’ face.  Derek had told him the bare bones of what happened one night over text.  He hadn’t wanted to do it face to face as he knew, from painful experience, that talking about the fire made him weep, so he tended not to. 

Swallowing and refocusing on Lydia, Derek continued, “I don’t really talk about it much.  At all.  But, what you said about crawling into the bottle, that’s what I did.  In fact, it’s what pretty much all of our family did.  It took my little sister to pull me out of mine, my other sister’s is still in there.” Derek hung his head and threw out a prayer for wherever Laura was.  “Everytime… everytime I got sober enough to remember the fire I just couldn’t deal with it.  It was all too much.  Anyway.  For all that I’m Mr AA, as my sponsees, sponsee, “ he corrected, wincing, “calls me, sometimes… I have times when all I want to do is get that oblivion back.  I _want_ so desperately to climb back into that bottle where my Mum and Dad, my aunt, my little brothers’ _aren’t_ … gone.  And hearing… what you said.  It’s painful and it hurts but it shows me that there are others who have gone through what I have and are still here, in the rooms, sharing, and… well… that’s pretty important too.”

He stopped with a nod and looked to the floor.  There was a few seconds of silence until Stiles stood up and walked to Peter’s side, resting a hand on the older man’s shoulder.  “Thank you Derek.” His voice was raw and deep but he was clearly holding it together, which was more than could be said for Peter.

When Derek looked up, past his boyfriend to his uncle, he saw the older man’s face was tight with pain.  They had both grieved in the same way though their pain was their own.  Peter had lost his family too and while he must have reacted to Lydia’s share, Derek doubted that it’d brought back it as many vicious memories as it had for him.

Stiles continued.  “Let’s close the meeting with the serenity prayer, but before that… Can I ask for a moment of silence for those within and out of the rooms who are suffering with alcoholism, or are… no longer with us.”  Derek hung his head allowing a couple of tears to drip from his eyelashes onto the worn carpet.  _Lord, please look after Laura, she’s a good woman, she’s your daughter and she needs your help.  May my family be rejoicing in your kingdom and all their tears are wiped away.  May their hearts be whole and happy and may your love shelter them from all pain._

“If we can link hands.” Stiles said and pulled Peter up.  Derek reached out and took his boyfriend’s hand in his, squeezing gently and being squeezed in return.  “The serenity prayer… God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference. Ahem.”  Derek, for once, couldn’t join in.  He was aware of Peter staying silent too.

As the prayer finished, Stiles pulled both Hale male back a step.  “You’re both coming to mine tonight, Peter you can have the guest room, but there’s no way either of you are going to be alone.” Stiles held up a finger as Derek tried to talk.  “No.  This is happening.  Scott, Allison, will you come back with us too?  I can’t offer a room…?”

“It’s fine.” Scott said, slightly wide eyed, Allison nodding decisively at his side . “We can stay at mine…” He hesitantly reached out to Derek and placed an unsteady hand on his sponser’s shoulder.  “I think it might be good for me too, to spend some time with members tonight.”

“OK.” Derek said and swallowed thickly, allowing Stiles to direct him back to a chair. 

“Scott, can you just phone Dad, let him know we’ll have guests?” His friend nodded and walked away.

“I’ll grab Garrett and we’ll clear up.” Allison said kindly and went to pack away the meeting.

Lydia came over and sat down next Derek.  “What’s your plan?” She asked, completely bypassing the pointless ‘ _are you OK?’_ questions.

Derek just looked up at Stiles.  “He’s going to stay at mine tonight, I’m his boyfriend.  Peter too, and Scott and my Dad is a member too, so…?”

“Thank you.” Derek said quietly, turning his head to Lydia a little. “I bottle it up.  I know I shouldn’t but…”

“It’s fine.” She said, simply.  “We all do.”

“Are you busy?” Derek asked, looking up at her, knowing he probably looked a little like a kicked puppy, but not caring.

“No.  Not until 9am tomorrow and that’s just delivering a lecture on orthogonal function sets and Fourier expansion.”

Derek blinked, drawn out of his reverie, “Oh, is that all…?” Derek said and Stiles gave a little chuckle.

“You’d be more than welcome to join us.” Stiles said and even blushed a little as Lydia looked up and nodded to him.

So, Derek’s night was set.  While he’d expected to spend the evening keeping Scott safe and well, it was, in fact, him who was going to be babysat.  Every time he was to say he would be fine though, his throat closed and his eyes stung with tears.  Instead of trying to talk, he just leant into Stiles and tried to relax into his boyfriend’s arms.

Despite wishing it otherwise, it would appear they were in for a long night.

 


	9. Derek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Derek's share and, after a small time jump, there's been some changes.

Derek held the door open for Stiles as they entered the hospital canteen.  From his place at the table, Scott waved enthusiastically, grinning at his friend and his sponsor.

“I didn’t know she’d be here?” Derek whispered, despite Scott being so far away.

“Not a problem is it…?” Stiles agreed with a thoughtful nod.

“No just a surprise.”

The ‘she’ in question was Scott’s new girlfriend, Kira.  Derek liked her, a lot. She was funny, smart, down to Earth and, most importantly, called Scott on his bullshit.  She’d been around for almost a month and the more Derek saw of her the more he liked her. 

It’d had been three months since the meeting in which Lydia had shared.  Three months in which Stiles and Lydia had become close friends, emailing almost daily and Skyping occasionally too.  Three months in which Scott had moved through the pain of losing Isaac into acceptance and then finding someone new.  Three months in which Derek and Stiles had grown closer and closer; rarely spending a night a part.  Three months which had seen Peter and Derek step down from their service roles allowing Stiles and Scott to take over.  Three months in which Derek had seen Jackson only once…

He’d parked up one evening and was walking to meet Stiles at a restaurant downtown when he’d heard his name being called from the other side of the road.  Looking up, he’d seen Jackson leaning against a wall, one foot up, cigarette in the hand he was waving with.  Derek had waved and, considering his ex-sponsee was standing outside a bar, went to move on.

“Hold on man.” Jackson had called and, giving a cursory check, jogged across the road to Derek.  “Hey.” He’d greeted, rocking a little in front of Derek.

“Hello Jackson. How are you?”

“Great! I am A-OK!” Jackson had grinned at him.

“Good.” Derek’s stomach had been in knots.  That close, he could not only smell the alcohol on Jackson’s breath but also see the difficulty the younger man was having in focusing.

“No!” He’d snapped, sounding angry. “I’m not ‘good’, I’m great.  Superb.  And I didn’t need you or your stupid program.”  He had grinned, not a happy smile, more a feral baring of teeth.

“OK, fine, you’re great. I’m meeting someone so.” He’d indicated up the street and Jackson had slowly turned his head to follow where Derek was pointing.

“Oh, OK.” Jackson had frowned and dropped his voice.  “I _am_ fine though Derek, you know that right?” He’d said, not meeting his eyes.

Derek had paused.  He’d know that Jackson had wanted, probably needed, him to validate his choices, but he just couldn’t do it.  “I don’t Jackson.” The younger man had flinched back slightly but stood where he was. “I only knew you sober and you weren’t always that healthy then… Now? Now you’re outside a bar at seven at night, clearly drunk, I just don’t know.  Look, you’ve got my number, when you want to stop and get back in, I’m here.” Derek had sidestepped the younger man and went to move on when Jackson had grabbed his shoulder and span him back to face him.

“I’m not like you.” He’d hissed. “I don’t have a fucking problem, I’m not…” He’d stuttered out under Derek’s impassive look.  He had slowly reached up and removed Jackson’s hand, then silently turned away, hating himself with each step he took.  After a few seconds he’d heard a half-hearted ‘fuck you’ being called after him, but ignored it.  Instead he’d taken out his phone and texted Danny, letting him know which bar his friend was in.  He’d received an almost immediate reply thanking him, but nothing more.

That was the last he’d heard from either of them.

Isaac, he’d not heard from at all.

“Hey you two!” Scott called as soon as they were in ear shot.  Derek grinned and gave his sponsee a hug and, as he spotted the confused and glaring café assistant studying them, a quick peck on the cheek too.  Her glare deepened and Derek resisted the urge to grin at her.  The poor woman had been on the outside, yet so close to, his relationships in the hospital for so long but he had no compunction to explain them either.

Swapping Scott for Kira, Derek stooped down into another warm hug and settled in while Stiles went for their drinks.  “So, how you been?” He asked his sponsee and was met with a wide smile and a quick rundown of what he’d been up to since they’d last seen each other. 

Since Scott had finished his step work and was now living his Step 12 - _Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics and to practice these principles in all our affairs ­_ – well... almost living his Step 12; Scott was still resolutely anti-spirituality but he had still happily taken over Derek’s old roll as opener of the Young and Sober meeting.

When Stiles joined them, carrying two tasteless but at least hot, coffees, Derek settled back a little and watched, happy and content that at least these two young men had settled into the program and were living happier lives.  Coffees were quickly drunk and another set of hugs given as Kira left, having arranged to meet up with Scott the following day.

“I like her.” Derek said simply and Scott rolled his eyes.

“You say that every time we meet.  I know, I know you like her.  But I still think it’s only because she called me a fuckwit the first time we all met.” Derek couldn’t help the grin which spread across his face.  It was true.  Scott had been ranting about something or other, Derek had given up listening as he’d decided not to argue with his sponsee in front of his new girlfriend.  When she had simply called him a ‘fuckwit’ and told him to get down off his high horse, Derek had snorted a laugh, especially when Scott shut up and they moved on to a friendlier topic.

When they reached the familiar room, Derek had to resist the urge to start setting up.  It was odd not seeing his uncle lurking in a corner, making coffees and generally being as unuseful as possible.  Stiles must have noticed his hands twitching as he led Derek to the top table and positioned him in the sharer’s chair.  “Coffee?” His boyfriend asked but Derek shook his head.  There was only so much cheap or instant coffee he could take, so opted for water instead. 

Stiles had taken over the role of chair, which meant it was Scott’s responsibility to get the door when it knocked.  The first people arrived almost as soon as Derek had sat down; Allison and Garrett, mores the pity.  Derek waved from the top table and thanked his higher power as they just went to the refreshments table and settled in to their own conversation. 

The room was quickly set up and Scott perched on the end of table, chatting with Stiles and Derek, though he bounded up as soon as the door went. This time though, no one entered the room, though Derek heard the kitchen door close, swiftly followed by a slightly panicked looking Scott scurrying back to the top table.

“Derek! There’s a new person!” He whispered furiously.

“OK…” He said, sitting back and crossing his arms, raising his eyebrow in question.

“But… But… he’s brand new. What do I do?”

“You _talk_ to him.  Remember how you felt when you first came in, listen and explain the program.  You can do this Scott, I’ve faith in you.”  Derek said and Scott drew himself up with a deep breath. 

“Right.”

“Remember the meetings list and newcomer pack.” Stiles added as Scott walked out, with a nod and a look of determination on his face.  Derek shook his head, but honestly believed that Scott would be OK.  Thinking about it though, he imagined that his sponsee would be relying on him a bit more if this newcomer turned out to stay in the rooms.

Stiles beckoned Allison over and asked her to chair, after checking it was alright with Derek, as he had to open, since Scott was occupied in the kitchen.  The meeting slowly filled up with members, most of whom Derek knew, some of whom he didn’t.  Stiles seemed to be greeting everyone warmly though and no new members appeared before the start of the meeting.

“If you can all sit down, we can make a start.” Allison said in her no nonsense tone. “Welcome everyone to the Thursday night Young and Sober AA meeting.  I’m going to start the meeting as tradition demands with the preamble and the blue card.  Alcoholics Anonymous is fellowship of men and women who share their experience, strength and hope with each other that they may solve their common problem and help others to recover from alcoholism. The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking. There are no dues or fees for A.A. membership; we are self supporting through our own contributions. A.A. is not allied with any sect, denomination, politics, organization or institution; does not wish to engage in any controversy, neither endorses nor opposes any causes. Our primary purpose is to stay sober and help other alcoholics to achieve sobriety.

“And the blue card, this is a closed meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous.  In support of A.A’s singleness of purpose, attendance at closed meetings is limited to persons who have a desire to stop drinking.  If you think you have a problem with alcohol, you are welcome to attend this meeting.  We ask that when discussing our problems, we confine ourselves to those problems as they relate to alcoholism.

“Thank you all for being here.  I’m Allison and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi Allison.” Derek said quietly, along with the rest of the room.

“I’m really pleased to be doing a chair tonight, it wasn’t that long ago that I had a relapse and it’s through the support I got in these rooms that I’ve managed to stay in.  That support came from a lot of members, but none more so than Scott and Stiles, who opened and Derek, who’s sharing.  I was just sitting here thinking,” she turned to Derek who frowned at her, unsure where she was heading, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you share.  I mean, I’ve heard you talk in the body of the room, but not a top-table share.

“So I’m looking forward to this.  You’ve been a bit of an inspiration to me, and I know a lot of people feel the same way.  You always do service, are always on the phone and have worked with a lot of new members.“ Derek couldn’t help but feel the absence of Jackson, and, to an extent, Isaac and he threw up a prayer for their safety.  “So, without-“

Allison cut off as the door to the meeting opened and Scott ushered a very young man into the room.  He was short, though well built, cute in a very young kind of a way and looked beyond terrified.  Derek’s sponsee directed him to an empty chair close to the seat by the door which Scott took.

“Without further ado,” Allison continued. “I’ll pass over to our share.” She said, giving the newcomer a tightlipped smile as she did. 

“Thank you, Allison, I’m Derek and I’m an alcoholic.” Derek said and waited for the room to greet him before continuing.  “Thank you Stiles and Scott for opening and thank you Allison for chairing the meeting.  I don’t get asked to share very often… my first sponsor told me it was I glared too much and for no reason.” He tried to ignore Stiles’ grin and Scott’s chuckle.  “I can’t help it though, that’s just how my face sets when I’m thinking.”  At this, his sponsee and his boyfriend had to turn away from each other to stop them giggling.  Derek knew that they found his glaring comical as they’d told him so to his face.  The newcomer was looking between Derek and the two giggling boys with a look of surprise clear on his face.

“Anyway.  I don’t tend to share often, but I’m really grateful to have been asked.  I’m a big fan of giving back in the program.” Conscious that there was a newcomer in the room, Derek decided to ditch what he was going to say and try and share with early recovery in mind.  “When I first got into the rooms I took a lot.  I took and I took and I took.   Most of the time I wasn’t even aware I was doing it, but I’d been so lost for so long that I _needed._ ” Derek slowly clasped his hands into fists and shook them slightly.

“Luckily for me, in the rooms, if you put your hand out to other members you’ll be given help.” He tried not to say this directly at the newcomer, tried to look at everyone, but he still caught the little frown on the boy’s face.  “Everyone in these rooms has needed help at some point in their recovery, be it a friend to rant to, a shoulder to cry on, a sponsor to work the steps with or a group of people to stay with you to keep you from drinking.  I’ve done it all and needed it all as well.

“Walking through that door was one of the hardest things I think I’ve ever had to do.  At the time, I don’t even know what I was thinking.  I’d been drinking for so long, trying to forget my life for so long that I had no idea who I even was.” Derek stopped, already this was so unlike any of the other shares he’d done.  Looking over at Stiles, his boyfriend who knew and accepted him and thinking of all the rigorous honesty in all the shares he’d heard from the very chair he was sitting in, he decided to open up as fully as he could.

“I think I better start at the start.  My family.” He shifted a little, already feeling the familiar discomfort.  “They died, in a fire.  All of them except my uncle and two sisters.  We all lost so much that day…  I don’t remember when I started drinking.  It was my uncle’s alcohol though, we all saw how he was, what he was doing and I don’t know… it just seemed like it was helping him I think.  I can’t…. It’s not clear.

“I think, losing my family? It broke me a little. I always knew where I was with them, we all lived together in this big house, we were never alone so I was always busy, always with people who loved me, then one day, it was all ripped away from me.  I didn’t know what I was anymore.  I remember feeling lost, feeling angry and most of all feeling alone; like no one had ever felt like I had.

“As soon as I started drinking I couldn’t stop.  It kept everything at bay.  All the pain, grief, everything.  It was only my little sister who didn’t follow us into alcoholism and it was her who sorted all the paper work, insurance, funerals.  She was fourteen years old and she did it all herself.” Derek shook his head sadly.  Cora had never really forgiven any of them for abandoning her like that.  She was hundreds of miles away in South America now and, despite their recovery, staying away from him and Peter.

“Anyway, this isn’t about her. I started drinking because I was hurting over my family but I kept drinking because I couldn’t stop.  At first I didn’t want to, then Peter stopped drinking and I found I couldn’t .  I tried, really I tried everything I could think of, but I couldn’t do it.  Eventually I asked Peter how he did it and he told me about AA.  This was a few years after the fire but I still don’t think I was ready to hear it.  Laura and I decided to move to New York instead.  Figured a fresh start would help us move on?

“It didn’t.  If anything it was worse.  We had an apartment and we had money and the pair of us did next to nothing besides drink all day.  I mean, sure, we tried school and work and friends but nothing took, nothing was as important as alcohol.  Even after my grief had passed I still used it as an excuse to drink.  I would _pretend_ to be in pain so I could drink more.  That’s I think what got me.  I was _using_ the memory of my family to drink on…

“After a massive fight with my sister I decided to come home, back to Beacon Hills.  Peter took me in on the condition I got sober, which, I think, was what I wanted.  He gave me a meeting list and told me to go.

“We stayed away from each other in recovery first.  He had a couple of years behind him and I think he wanted me to find my own path, which I did.  I had a kick-ass sponsor who beat the program into me, sometimes I think he came close to literally beating me I was so annoying, but I got it in the end. 

“The first thing he told me was: ‘keep coming back.’  For a while, this was the only thing I really got in AA.  That I had to, like _had to,_ keep coming back to meetings.  Even if I didn’t want to, or even if I was tired, or angry or just wanted to punch every single person in the room, I had to keep coming to meetings.” Derek was aware that a few of the members were flickering looks at the newcomer, well aware that that bit of the share was directed at him.  The boy in question just seemed to be staring at the floor with a tight, clenched expression, looking more angry than anything else.

“Eventually, the more I started listening and identifying with the people who were talking and the more I started spending time with members, the easier it was to deal with all the crazy emotions I had swirling around my head.  Like, there was all the grief obviously, but just generally too.  Like, I didn’t know how to react to feeling happy, my first thought was always to drink.

“Anger though.  That was my main problem when I got sober.  It felt like I was angry _all the time._ Apparently I spent the first year in AA just glaring at people.” This time, neither Stiles or Scott laughed, both just listened intently. “It took me a long time to realise that, for me, my anger was just fear.

“I was scared of everything.  I was scared of drinking, I was scared of not drinking, I was scared of members, I was scared of the world really.  Only when I started working through the steps, starting unpacking exactly what was making me scared and angry, that was when I started getting better.

“I heard myself in these shares. I heard people share about things which scared me, things which angered me and I heard things which I was ashamed to admit that I’d done.  Everything in my life, from the drinking, the lying, the violence, the pain through to the joy, happiness and love I’ve heard from someone else’s lips in this program and every single one of them has been an alcoholic.

“It’s something I’m not ashamed to say I share with every single member of the program all around the world.  I have no power over alcohol other than the power not to pick up that first drink. If I don’t pick up that first drink, then I can’t get drunk.  For me, it’s all about that one idea.

“As impossibly important I find everything else in AA, not it can all be boiled down to not picking up the first drink.  The meetings are a tool, your sponsor is a tool, the Big Book is a tool, the steps are a tool, phone numbers are a tool and my Higher Power is a tool but in the end all you are really doing is keeping the first drink away from you.  Now, the more tools you can use the further away that drink can be, but in the end? The first drink is this far away.” Derek held up his arm and pointed from shoulder to fingertip.

“That’s why I won’t have alcohol in my house, why I don’t go to bars and if I have to go to a party I make sure my hands are full and I know my way out if I need to.

“This program is hard work, but the alternative, being out and drinking? Well, that’s harder and it’s all just waiting for me.  I’m lucky enough not to have relapsed but I have the shares of members who have and I know that’s not something I want to try and, God, willing, one day at a time I won’t.”

Derek paused and silently prayed that that was true.  “That’s not my usual share, but I hope it made sense to some of you. Thank you.” He stopped abruptly and turned to Allison who nodded at him before addressing the room.

“OK.  We now take a ten minutes break to get some fresh air, grab a tea, coffee or water and talk to each other.  It’s ten minutes to reflect on what you just heard and when we come back I’ll go round the room one at a time and you’ll each have a chance to talk, if you want to, but no one will force you.” Her explanation was clearly for the sake of the newcomer, but no one minded.

As the meeting broke up, Stiles bounded up to his boyfriend and hugged him fiercely.  “You’re amazing.” He whispered and Derek shrugged.

“It’s just my share.” He said in return, walking Stiles over to the refreshments.  They were chatting about nothing and Derek kept his eye on Scott who had scooted forward in his chair and was talking in low tones to the newcomer.  Because he was watching for it, he caught his sponsee’s look and walked over.

“Hi, how you doing?” Derek asked, putting out his hand for the newcomer to shake.  The boy, and this close it was clear he was still just a boy, stood warily and looked at Derek hard before shaking his hand.  “I’m Derek.”

“Liam.” The boy said.

“Well done for making it to your first meeting, is it what you expected?” Derek asked and Liam worried at his lips, frowning.

“Sort of?” He asked and Derek nodded, encouraging him on. “I mean it’s kind of like how it is on movies, but, I don’t know, everyone seems so happy and young.”

Derek tried not to laugh, “Yeah, well, don’t worry, we’re all pretty messed up really.  This is just a safe place where we can all get together with friends and talk about our drinking, you know?”

Liam nodded, though he frowned at Scott a little.  “Hey, I’m Stiles.” Derek’s boyfriend said as he walked up, “You want a coffee or water?” He asked the newcomer.

“Liam. Yeah, water would be great.” He said and with a look at Scott, who nodded, walked off with Stiles.

“You OK?” Derek asked and Scott sighed deeply.

“I have literally no idea. I mean, am I his sponsor now? Can’t you do it?” He asked Derek, eyes pleading.

“No Scott, I’ve got you and that’s enough for me right now.  You opened the door to him, you are the one he spoke to first, you’ve worked the steps so you can do it.  I’m here for you and I’ll support you but, you’re it.  He’s your sponsee.  Do you have money for the Big Book?”

“Errrrrr…”

“I’ll cover it, you know where they are right?” Scott nodded.  “OK, well, get him to hang around after the meeting and we’ll get him one, make sure he gets numbers too.  Does he know about sponsors?”

“I don’t think so.” Scott said, frowning as Stiles and Liam returned.

“Tell him now.” Derek said quietly and steered Stiles away, assuring Liam they’d talk more after the meeting.  He explained what was happening to Stiles who rolled his eyes, still not overly keen on sponsors being foisted – his word – onto newcomers, but held his tongue, no doubt well aware that Scott would do his best to be the best sponsor he could.

Before long, Allison called the meeting back to order and Derek returned to his seat at the top table.

“Thank you Derek for your share.  I feel like I know you a lot better now.  We’ve been around the rooms a lot, and been friends inside and out but, yeah, that was the rigorous honesty I come to the rooms for.  Thank you.  Now, this is your part of the meeting, so I’ll turn it over to you.  Garrett?”

Derek took a deep breath and steeled himself for whatever obnoxious nonsense the other man was going to come out with.  “Yeah, I agree with Allison, I’ve heard you in meetings and heard you share before and always thought that you were full of it, but that was really powerful man.  I just hope you can share like that all the time.” Derek ground his teeth and reminded himself to look for the positives; as Garrett rambled on though it became harder and harder.  Eventually he finished and Allison moved the meeting on.

When his boyfriend started to speak, Derek found all anger and resentment gone.  “Hi, I’m Stiles and I’m and alcoholic.”

“Hi Stiles.” As ever, Derek pitched his voice slightly louder than everyone else and was, as ever, met with the little smile Stiles seemed to keep only for him; the one that made his heart flutter pleasantly in his chest.

“Thank you Scott and Allison for opening and Derek for your share.  I don’t think I ever really expected you to share like that… You’re always so focused on the AA message and saying the right thing, hopefully you’ll get as much from your honesty as we did.  For me, this is a family disease too, my Dad’s in the program too, but I remember that struggle to stop and the being overcome by emotion thing when I first got in.  Now though, I’m happy to say that not only can I feel emotions honestly, but I have some of the best emotions I’ve ever thought about.” Derek ducked his head and blushed a little, knowing that Stiles was talking about him.  “I never expected to be this happy in sobriety.  I always thought that I would just struggle for ever and be just making do, but yeah, for me, right now, I’m happy.  Thank you.”

“Thank you Stiles.” Allison said with a smile and moved the meeting on.  While Derek did still listen, he couldn’t help but focus on Stiles.  His Stiles.  The man who broke through all his barriers and made him feel, made him happy.  He couldn’t help but smile, even when his boyfriend gave him a glare and darted his eyes across at the person responding to his share, showing where his attention should be.  Dutifully, Derek did just that and did his best to focus on the other members.

“Thank you, Braedon, I’m sorry I don’t know your name but you’re welcome to speak if you want, or pass, it’s up to you?” Allison calmly said to the newcomer.

“Errrr, right, my name’s Liam.”

“Hi Liam.” They all said quietly.

“Right, hi. And well, I’m here I guess because I’m having a bit of trouble with drinking.  It’s like you said,” he nodded at Derek, “I just don’t seem able to stop.  I don’t know though, it’s a bit different? I have Intermittent Explosive Disorder, which means I get really violently angry if I’m not medicated so I’ve been on _something_ ever since I was twelve.  It’s only in the last few months I’ve been drinking on my meds too but now… I want to stop, I want to not be on anything and I’ve got out my medication but I can’t seem to stop drinking.  It was a councilor at school who suggested I come to this meeting and, I don’t know, I’m willing to try anything I guess…

“There was something, if it’s OK?” He asked Scott who nodded. “When you were talking about anger and emotions? That’s me, like all the time.  So, if you know how to fix that, man, I’d like to know.” He huffed a little laugh, looking even younger than he had. “That’s me I guess?” He said, looking at Scott who nodded with a supportive smile.

“Thank you Liam and welcome.  Scott?” She turned to the last member.

“Thank you Allison.  And thanks to Stiles for helping me open and Derek for your share. I’m Scott and I’m an alcoholic.”  He waited to be greeted before carrying on. “Derek, to say you’ve been a big influence in my life and recovery would be a massive understatement.  You were the first person I really opened up to about my drinking and my thinking and for that I’d like to say thank you. It took me a long time to get to the point of listening to you though so I want to say thank you for your patience too.

“I identified a lot with your share.  Especially with the bit where you talked about your emotions _after_ getting into the rooms.  I thought that all the crap in my head would be sorted as soon as I got sober, but, man it seemed to just get worse.  I’m just really grateful that I had you guys to see me through it all.

“And now… well, I’m doing service, done my 12 steps, going back to school, healthy relationships.” He paused and Derek knew he was thinking about Isaac and wishing he knew where the other boy was.  Derek had bumped into Erica a couple of week after she’d stormed out of the meeting, but hadn’t got any information out of her. “ Now I’ve even got my own… I mean, I’m gonna be starting something new and I’m nervous and excited but I’m confident I can do it, you know? And that’s down to the people in these rooms, and the program I guess.  So, yeah, thank you.”

“Thank you Scott.  We’ll close the meeting with the tenth tradition and the serenity prayer.  Please feel free to join in using the word God as you do, or do not, understand it.” Allison said, stepping out from behind the top table and extended a hand to Scott.  Derek walked round and took Stiles’ hand before linking back up with Allison. 

He looked to his boyfriend and smiled.  Here was a man who understood him, didn’t push him and would be there for him.  Opposite them was their friend Scott, someone who was curious and kind and loyal; someone who was about to embark on trying to get a newcomer through the steps.  Derek thought back to Scott’s first meeting and, considering how far the young man had come, was hopeful of Liam’s chances with his new sponsor. 

Despite feeling joy at being with his friends in the rooms, he couldn’t help but think about Jackson and Danny, Isaac, Laura and all the other people he’d met and knew who were out, and drinking.  Each was a reminder that the program only works if you work it.  Once again, Derek prayed.  For Jackson with his arrogance.  Isaac with his pain.  Laura with her grief.  Allison with her passion.   Scott with his morality. Liam with his new chance.  Stiles.  For Stiles with his curiousity, kindness, patience, loyality, pride.  For his heart. 

“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change, courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.

“Amen.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. That's it folks.
> 
> Never asked for, much ignored, but hopefully still enjoyable, Teen Wold AA fic.
> 
> Back to Scarred now... :-)
> 
> G*

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Most of the chapters have been written so I'll be updating this every couple of days.
> 
> Comments are like oxygen! :-D


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